Fever
by Redfeather Child
Summary: Edward is getting sick and goes on a mission he wasn't assigned. Colonel Mustang is not happy when he finds out. Parental!Roy/Ed/Al.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hello readers! Welcome to my second FMA story. I wasn't expecting "Secret Santa" to be such a success and it has encouraged me to write more in the fandom. :) I adore Parental!Roy/Ed and that's what this story is all about. And its going to be fluffy because I need fluff. The plan is to update once a week. So hope ya'll enjoy this story!_**

* * *

 ** _September 1912_**

Edward sneezed. Once. Twice. And then again. Groaning, the thirteen year old rested his head against the cool window of the train. They were just ten minutes out from East City Station.

"Are you okay, Brother?"

"I'm fine, Al. The colonel must be complaining about me already, that's all."

Not that it was Edward's fault the mission had gone so awry. It was the fault of that stupid military man in charge of the town. Seriously, were all military brass such selfish asses? Edward didn't even remember the man's rank cause there was no way he'd come by it honestly. Unfortunately, he was the top dog and he had called Ed's superior, Colonel Roy Mustang to complain about the young alchemist. Normally that wouldn't have been a problem, but Edward had lost his temper and destroyed quite a few buildings and the town square in the process. Of course he fixed everything the best he could. That had not stopped the jerk in charge from complaining.

As it stood, Edward knew he was in for a long lecture and pointed questions about what exactly had happened on top of the report he was supposed to turn in. The report he had not even started.

Groaning, Edward reached for his suitcase. He might as well get it over with. Pulling out a pen, paper, and his journal to write on top of, Edward started his report. "Hey Al, why don't you head back to the dorm when we get there? I'll go give Colonel Bastard his report and get the lecture over with."

His younger brother sighed. "Colonel Mustang, brother. You should be more respectful."

"Yeah, whatever." Edward waved away his brother's words. He gave the colonel the exact amount of respect he deserved for being a pompous, vain, lazy jerk: the bare minimum. He wouldn't even give him that if it weren't for the fact Colonel Mustang had actually been helpful in the quest for the Philosopher's Stone.

Ten minutes later, Edward stuffed his hastily finished report into his pocket as the brothers disembarked the train.

"Ed, are you sure you want to give the colonel that? It's not—"

"Don't worry about it."

Alphonse sighed and said no more.

Thirty minutes later, Edward walked into the office and he was already ready to get out of there. A headache had been slowly building since leaving the station. The last thing he wanted was to listen to a lecture now from Colonel Sarcasm.

"Hey Chief, welcome back," Havoc said, grinning at the teen. Fuery and Breda echoed him, pausing in their paperwork. "The Colonel's not here. He was called to a last minute meeting with the generals visiting from West City. Brought your report?"

"Yep," Edward smirked and held up the crumbled papers, trying to hide his relief. That the colonel's attention was diverted by visiting generals was great. Mustang would probably have more important things on his mind than reprimanding Edward for the mess he'd made.

The second lieutenant arched a brow. "Hope it's good. The colonel wasn't too happy after that phone call from Major Nolan."

"The guy was an incompetent jerk," the teen grumbled, not happy with the reminder he was in trouble. At least the colonel was out and couldn't lecture him until later. The three men chuckled and Breda spoke next. "Yeah, we got that impression too."

The three men grinned and Edward wondered what exactly their superior officer had said after the phone call. Apparently he had not just complained about Ed. Before he could ask them to share what Mustang had to say about the so-called Major Nolan, he started sneezing. It hurt this time and he was grimacing by the time it stopped.

"Ugh."

"You feel all right?" Havoc asked. "Not getting sick are you? There's a nasty flu going around. Falman's got it now and Hawkeye had it a couple weeks ago."

"'m fine," Edward said, wiping his face with his sleeve and ignoring the sudden spike in his headache he had. "I don't get sick. Can I drop this on Mustang's desk?"

"Sure thing Chief," Havoc said, thumbing towards the door to the colonel's office. "I'm sure he'll want to read over it when he gets back."

Edward snorted. Yeah, sure he would. At least he wouldn't be here for the immediate lecture. He pushed open the door to Mustang's office (without the excess force since the colonel wasn't here) and headed for the desk. There was a not so surprising amount of paperwork covering it: two neat piles and several files open on the desk. A particular file caught his attention. It looked like a mission brief, the ones the colonel usually gave Edward.

A sly grin crossed the blonde's face and he quickly opened the file. The colonel already had another mission for him then. Well, he'd just get started on it tonight that way he could throw it in the man's face that he had gotten it done before it was even assigned to him!

Glancing over his shoulder, Edward confirmed that the team was busy and couldn't see him. Then he quickly scanned the papers. Another thief to catch? Really? And the colonel couldn't get off his lazy bum and take care of it himself like usual. And the military police were calling him the Diamond Malum? Who came up with that dumb name?

A noise from the other room startled the teen and he quickly closed the file. He then dropped his report to the middle of the colonel's desk, causing papers to flutter here and there before hastily leaving the room.

* * *

It was a quarter past ten that night when Colonel Roy Mustang finally returned to the office, exhausted. The meeting had been a complete waste of time. He'd almost have rather been doing paperwork instead. At least that was semi productive. Not that he'd ever tell Hawkeye that. Then she'd be after him even more to get the mountains of paperwork done earlier.

He stepped into the empty office with a sigh. Directly after the meeting ended, Roy had sent Hawkeye home even though she had tried to protest. His lieutenant was exhausted however and still recovering from the cold she'd caught last week. She needed rest. Roy had ordered the rest of his men to make sure they got proper rest and fluids as well to hopefully not catch the bug. The last thing he needed was for all his men to come down ill when there was a murderer to catch.

Scowling, Roy headed towards his private office. He would take the files home with him. There had to be something he was missing, some clue that would lead him to the killer. Opening the door, he flicked on the light and promptly swore. The neat stacks of paper he'd left on his desk were a mess, scattered across the desk and the floor.

"What the hell," he snarled as he quickly began to pick them up. That's when he spotted the papers in the middle of the desk and the familiar scrawl of his youngest subordinate. "Fullmetal!"

Of course the brat was responsible for this. The teen knew he was in for a major lecture after his last mission and was already lashing out. Roy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had half a mind to assign the kid latrine duty again for a week for this. He'd worked all day on the damn paperwork; trying to get ahead just enough so he could be in the field working the unit's current case with his team since he was down a man. Now he'd have to waste time re-sorting it before he could finish the remaining paperwork.

Sighing, Roy took off his coat and dropped it on the couch. Looked like he was going to have a late night after all. As he picked up Fullmetal's report, something prickled in the back of his mind; a sense that something was wrong. Frowning, he leafed through the papers and growled. This report was completely unacceptable. Hand written, barely legible, and incomplete, there was absolutely no way he could give this to the brass. As it was he had to doctor the kid's reports so they could pass muster on a regular basis. He did not have time to attempt to decipher and then re-write the whole thing.

If Fullmetal wanted to act like a brat, Roy would treat him like one. He'd re-write his report here in the office under his and Hawkeye's supervision after Roy had lectured the hell out of him. And if he remained obstinate, well Roy would assign the younger alchemist latrine duty for a week, with no alchemy allowed. That had worked well last time in improving the teenager's behavior for a time.

Setting the so-called report aside, Roy looked at the file underneath. It was the Diamond Malum case. It started nearly a month ago with a thief breaking into a jewelry store and stealing thousands of cenz in diamonds. The thefts started to happen regularly, hitting stores all over town and then several wealthy homes. Each time the thief only took diamonds. The file here was the one the police had sent over of all the evidence they'd collected before they'd discovered a grisly corpse half buried in the garbage behind the last place that had been hit. It was the murder that had the MP's asking for assistance. There had been signs of alchemy on the corpse. Mustang's team had gone back to investigate the other locations. They'd discovered a corpse at each one, along with similar signs of alchemy and several other unfamiliar symbols. Alarmed, Roy had taken over the investigation and brought in Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes as well.

He'd been planning to speak to Fullmetal about the case to see if he had any insights into the alchemy being used. It was unfamiliar to Roy and his research so far had turned up nothing.

Wait, hadn't he left the file open, not closed?

Roy gave himself a shake and rubbed his aching eyes. It was probably nothing. Yeah, it was nothing. He was exhausted and needed sleep. Gathering the files he needed, he stuffed them in his briefcase. Fixing the paperwork could wait for tomorrow.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First off, thank you guys so much for your reviews and favs! You guys are amazing! :D I'm thrilled people are interested in this story. That said, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! I got stuck on the case, which wasn't supposed to blow up like it did. :/ This was supposed to be a fluffy, quick piece and then _plot_ somehow wiggled its way in. *sighs* And so what should have been a short and sweet story is now already approaching 10k and will probably be more before I'm finished. Opps...? This also means updates won't be as frequent as I had initially planned. The goal is still to post again next week, but no promises.**

 **This was also my first time writing Mustang's team and I'm still not happy with their scene. I don't think I have their voices down at all so any tips on how to better capture their characters would be welcome. :)**

 **Okay, enough babbling and on with the story! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I'm just borrowing.**

 *****Now edited thanks to darkraistlyn! Thank you so much for your insights and suggestions! :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

* * *

When Edward woke up the next morning, he very nearly didn't get up. His throat was so dry, nose stuffy, and his body felt like one big bruise. "Ugh." Edward stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He didn't have time for this. There was a thief to catch and a smug flame alchemist to show up.

Once he'd gotten back to the dorm the night before, he'd found a note from Al saying he'd gone to get dinner for Ed. As the blond had waited, he'd gone over the information he remembered from the file and looked at a map. He'd spotted a pattern in the places where the thief had been stealing from. It was actually a rather odd pattern until Edward realized it was a swastika that covered the whole of Central. Swastikas were symbols of good luck*. Add to the peculiar pattern it presented for the thief's targets, and it actually was a good luck charm because the authorities weren't able to predict where the thief would strike next. But Edward had spotted it. He was that good.

By the time that was done, Edward's head felt like a drummer had taken to pounding at his skull. He'd gone to bed before Alphonse returned with dinner.

As he dressed, Edward considered maybe not going out after all. Then he dismissed the thought. He wasn't at his best, so what? It wasn't like he hadn't fought before when he'd been injured. This wasn't any different. Not even as dangerous. He felt better already after a shower. .

"Good morning, Ed," his brother greeted when he finally emerged from the bathroom. The younger boy was seated on the couch, some books spread out on the coffee table. They weren't alchemy books he noticed, but fiction novels. Al had started reading them a few months back to get through the lonely nights. When Edward had asked where they'd come from Al had evaded and said the library. He suspected someone on the team had actually directed Al towards the section, probably Lieutenant Colonel Hughes.

"Hey Al," Edward muttered, bee lining for the small kitchenette. He filled a glass from the kitchen sink and took a sip. It made his stomach roil. Grimacing, he quickly put the cup on the counter and glanced at the fridge. The mere thought of food made the churning worse. Yeah, definitely not eating anything right now, he decided.

"So, how did it go last night with Colonel Mustang?"

"He wasn't there," Edward answered, grinning. "Apparently there was some big meeting or something. So I dropped off my report, got my next mission and came back here."

"Another mission? But you just got back and the Colonel hasn't even debriefed you on the last one."

Edward shrugged. "Not the first time he's given me mission right after we've gotten back."

Alphonse's armor creaked as he turned to glance at his older brother, echoing the boy's clear discomfort. "I guess. Tell me about it."

Edward quickly explained what he knew about the thief and his strike pattern. The younger boy titled his head when he finished. "That's not a whole lot to go on."

"More than we've had to work with on some missions," Edward grumbled. The colonel had sent him on plenty of missions in the past year and had not provided enough information in his opinion. There was something tickling his throat. He tried to swallow to wet it but ended up coughing.

"Ed?" Vaguely Edward realized Alphonse was calling for him over the coughs. When he stopped, his headache was back with a vengeance. Groaning, he rubbed his head.

"Brother, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Edward croaked and cleared his throat, ignoring his pounding head. "I'm gonna go bust this thief for Colonel Flame face. You wanna go to the library and start researching?"

"Why can't I come with you?" Alphonse demanded, turning sharply to look at his brother.

"Don' need to," the blonde said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's just a thief. No alchemy or nothing. Just a thief the military idiots can't catch. It'll be a piece of cake! How about I meet you at lunch?"

The armored boy didn't immediately answer, studying the elder. Edward plastered on an easy grin. The last thing he needed was Al worrying about him. He just wanted to do this and get the colonel off his back so he could go back to bed.

"Ed, I don't think this is a good idea," Al said at last. "You don't look too good. And you really should discuss the case with the colonel first."

"Heh, as if he ever actually says anything that's helpful," Edward grumbled. He swallowed back a cough. "And I'm fine, Al,"

"Sure you are. Are you going to have breakfast?" Alphonse asked, clearly concerned and not happy with Edward's answer. "You didn't eat dinner last night."

"Yeah, I'll get something on the way. Now I've gotta go if I'm gonna catch him."

"What?" Al cried, startled. "Why now? Don't thieves usually strike at night?"

"Not this guy. Later!"

Edward was out the door before Al could protest any further.

* * *

"All right, let's go over it again," Roy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We know the Diamond Malum began stealing just over a month ago. According to the autopsy reports of the victims we've found when we went back to the crime scenes, he has been killing just as long. There have been twelve robberies so far."

"That makes twelve murders," Hawkeye said quietly. "But only nine bodies have been recovered."

"Hughes, has there been any progress identifying the victims?"

The lieutenant colonel from investigations shook his head, the normally cheerful man grim. "No. The condition of the bodies is making it difficult to identify the remains. According to Dr. Knox, it's almost as if they were, well, melted."

The colonel grimaced, remembering the horrible condition of the corpses they'd found. The victims had clearly been tortured extensively before their death, which had been obviously very brutal.

"I also received a report this morning that the victim found at the fifth scene was a teenage boy," Hughes continued, the light catching on his glasses as he dipped his chin.

Everyone stiffened at that. All thoughts turned to the teenager in their own ranks, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Said teenager had also failed to report to the office that morning. Not that it was unusual, especially when he going to be reprimanded by his superior. Naturally it had irked Roy that Fullmetal had not come in. He'd called the dorm once he'd gotten into the office and gotten no response. Exasperated, he'd dismissed the problem of the boy's insubordination. There was no time to deal with Fullmetal's childish behavior when more important things required his immediate attention.

"We've established the killer's pattern of attack is actually a city-wide swastika, so we do know where he will strike next," Roy said, forcing his focus to stay on the job at hand. "Have we confirmed the location?"

"Yes, Colonel," Breda answered. He pointed to the map splayed out on the tables. "It's a residence owned by one Georg Hoffman, a wealthy entrepreneur with ties to the railroad barons."

"Geez, that guy's seriously loaded to get them cooperate with him," Havoc said, twirling an unlit cigarette in his fingers. Roy had to agree. Railroads were key to the economy and ease of travel in Amestris. The men who'd privately built more railroads for the country were extremely wealthy and influential. If they were involved, however indirectly, then the pressure on his team had just gone up.

"Not just cooperate with him," Breda said. He pulled a picture from a file. "Last fall, the barons gave Hoffman a diamond ring for him to present his wife on their anniversary. Apparently she'd lost her wedding ring a few months before and was devastated. This was his gift to her."

They all gaped at the photograph, even Roy.

"The barons gave him that?" Hughes sputtered, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. Havoc whistled. "That is quite the ring!"

That was an understatement. Surrounded by smaller blue diamonds that twisted into an infinity symbol, the diamond at the center was large and white. Smaller diamonds covered the golden band that held them. It was beautiful to be sure. Almost gaudily so. Hoffman must have truly impressed the barons to receive such a gift for his wife.

"So that's the Diamond Malum's target. Do we know where the ring is?"

"Mrs. Hoffman usually keeps the ring in her personal safe near her vanity. Hoffman confirmed it was still there since his wife left a week ago to visit family in the south." Breda put the photo back into the file and handed it to Roy. He frowned at it, before putting it down on his desk and picking up the Diamond Malum's original case file.

"The police confirmed that our target always strikes in the middle of the day, and given that it has been three days since he last struck he will strike again today."

"These are the street plans for the area around Hoffman's house," Hawkeye said, unrolling city plans of the area on Feury's desk. "Based on the police investigations and our own, it seems most likely our quarry has an extensive knowledge of the alleys and possibly the sewers."

"Which means surveillance will be tricky. We still don't know how he is taking his victims or how he is killing them, so no one is to go off alone." Roy gave his team a stern look.

"That includes you, sir."

Roy dipped his head, acknowledging Hawkeye's words and swallowing the slight spike of annoyance. "Of course. There are still too many unknowns in this case for my liking."

"Agreed," Hughes said. "But this cannot go on. If we are correct, not only can we expect the diamond ring to be stolen, but another murder."

"That's why we're ending this today. Does everyone know their positions?"

"Yes, sir!" His subordinates chorused.

"Good. Hughes and I will be going inside to—" Roy didn't finish, having glanced down one last time at the police file as he set it on the desk.

"Roy?"

There was a smudge on the folder; an oil smudge. "Fullmetal," he breathed, horrible realization kicking him in the chest.

"Colonel? What is it?" Hawkeye sounded very far away, even though in reality she was right next to him. "Sir?"

Roy didn't answer her. Instead, he lifted furious eyes towards his men. "When was Fullmetal seen last?"

His men clearly weren't expecting his sharp question as they blinked and looked at each other in confusion.

"Uh last night, Colonel," Feury said quietly, "when he came to drop of his report."

The mess on his desk. Damn it, Fullmetal had snuck a look at the file when he was leaving his sorry excuse for a report! Something must have startled the boy and he'd made the mess when he closed the folder and dropped his report on top. He was an idiot. He knew something was off last night, but he'd been too tired to realize what it was.

Snarling, Roy demanded, "Who let Fullmetal go into my office to drop off his report?"

Feury and Breda immediately pointed at Havoc. The blonde was sweating and shrugged uncertainly. "Well Boss, I figured you'd want to read it right away and…"

The lieutenant didn't finish because Mustang slammed his hand down on the police file. "He looked through the file the police sent us about the Diamond Malum. How long was he in my office?"

"Uh, not more than a minute, I think," Havoc stammered. "Kid didn't appear to be feeling that great. Was sneezing and rubbing his head like he had a headache. He said he was headed back to the dorms to join his brother when he left."

"Colonel, why does it matter that Edward looked at the file?" Hawkeye cut in. Her coffee eyes were stern as they met his. "You were going to show it to him anyway and discuss the situation with him this morning. And in any case, he didn't examine it thoroughly if he left so quickly."

Roy couldn't answer her. He _had_ planned to show Edward the file and discuss the alchemy traces that had been found. If the brat had come in to the office like he should have this morning, he would have too. There was no way the teenager had time to look at all the files even if had had snuck a peak. Hawkeye was right, he shouldn't be upset. But he couldn't shake the dread that had taken root in his belly. He grabbed the phone. He had to be sure.

"Sir, the mission."

"I'm aware, Lieutenant. Everyone be ready to move out in five." Even as he gave the order, Roy was dialing the familiar number for the Elric brothers' dorm room. No response, again. Swearing, he ordered the operator to connect him to the library, his knuckles going white as he held the phone to his ear.

The librarian, a Mrs. McLaren, was used to receiving calls from the colonel. He often called to check on his youngest subordinate who he knew could get lost in his reading for hours. He didn't give her chance to say anything more than hello before he demanded: "Is the Fullmetal Alchemist there?"

"Oh, good morning Colonel. No, I haven't seen him this morning. His brother, Alphonse is here though."

"Put him on the phone now," Roy commanded.

The woman gave a surprised twitter and he heard her set the receiver down. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, the vice around his chest growing tighter. A minute later, he heard the young voice of the younger Elric.

"Hello?"

"Alphonse, where is Fullmetal?"

The younger teen stammered over the line. "Oh, uh Colonel Mustang. Brother, he was working on the new mission you had for him. The Diamond Malum or something."

"What? I didn't assign him a mission! I haven't even seen him since you boys got back to the city."

Behind him he heard his subordinate gasp as the implications sank in. On the phone, Alphonse made a distressed noise as he seemed to realize his brother had once again done something he shouldn't.

"How long has he been gone?" The colonel demanded, desperately praying the boy had not left long before and there was still time to catch him.

"Ed left a couple hours ago," Al answered hastily. "He said he figured out the next place the thief was going to strike. I don't think he's feeling very good this morning. He was pale, and coughed a bit. He didn't eat either, but he said he was fine! And since it's just a thief I figured he'd be okay. We've caught thieves before and…"

Roy had not realized it was possible for his chest to constrict further. "He's sick?"

When Havoc had mentioned it, Roy had figured it was just fatigue from traveling. But Alphonse had noticed something off too. That meant Fullmetal probably really was sick. Any alchemist worth their salt knew better than to fight when they were ill. Alchemy required the flow of energy through the body without any blockage and precise mental control and focus. With his ability to clap and use his alchemy without circles, that was even more important for Edward. And he was out there right now, planning on catching a simple diamond thief not a cold-blooded maniac who was likely an alchemist. The teenager probably didn't anticipate using more than a little alchemy to catch his target. But he would need it. All it would take was one transmutation or dodge too slow and…

Roy slammed the phone down. "Damn it. Move out!"

* * *

 **Please review and tell me your thoughts! And for those who had a feeling Edward was in over his head...*grins evilly* oh yes, yes he is.**

 **Have a great week everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: *waves* Hi everyone! I'm so so sorry for how long it's been since I last posted. Life happened. 'Nough said. Today is my first day with internet after five days without it and since I finally finished the chapter I thought I'd go ahead and post it in celebration! :) I'm still not fully satisfied with it, but I figure I just need to post it and quit fussing with it. So please excuse any mistakes.**

 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

Edward groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his hiding place. He'd been pleased to find that the thief's next target, an expensive home with an extensive lawn and garden behind it, had such foliage for cover. Finding a tree that gave him a clear view of the house and the grounds, Edward had settled in to wait for his prey. But that had been over an hour ago now. Where was this guy? Edward knew he wasn't wrong about the time of day this diamond thief struck, so _where was he_?

A shiver raced through him and he pulled his coat tighter around himself. Why did it have to be so cold? It was mid-September and shouldn't be this cold yet. Edward would much rather be back in the dorm, wrapped in a warm blanket and sleeping, not out here freezing waiting to catch some lame thief for Colonel Lazybones. He ignored the niggling little voice in the back of his mind that pointed out being out here was his idea in order to show up his superior.

He was drawn from his internal complaints by a sudden shadow appearing at the far end of the garden. Grinning, Edward shifted into a better position to move. Finally! He waited, eager to see the thief he was going to be catching. Only he saw nothing.

Frowning, Edward scanned the garden again but saw no one. There. Something was moving: the shadow. Now uneasy, Edward squinted to see better. Yes, there on the main path of the garden was a shadow with nothing visible that could be creating it. The shadow looked like a man, kind of. It was unnaturally large on top and it was barely possible to see the head. A hunchback? Like in that book Al was reading a few weeks ago?

Edward gave himself a mental shake. Don't be an idiot, he scolded. That was just some lame fiction focused on over describing some dumb religious building more than telling an actually good story. This was not fiction and he needed to focus.

The shadow was moving towards the house at a steady trudge as if it was weighed down…

That was it! It was the thief carrying something heavy. Edward scowled. But what could he be carrying that was that heavy or that big? He didn't remember reading anything in the file that indicated the thief using any tools. The police weren't sure how their 'Diamond Malum' was taking the diamonds. But the better question in Edward's mind was how the thief was only a shadow on the ground!

It had to be alchemy. But what kind exactly?

He tapped his finger on his chin, watching as the shadow approached the extensive back porch of the house. That's when he saw it, the wink of dark cloth on stone. He straightened. No longer watching the ground where the shadow was, Edward trained his eyes on air above it. He saw the cloth a few more times and was gradually able to make out the outline of a person walking, carrying something that was a lot bigger than a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. The thief was camouflaging himself! Edward had never heard of alchemy being used in precisely this manner before. It was certainly clever and explained why the MPs had not found the man. They'd probably walked right past him a few times given the number of robberies.

Edward smirked. Well, this thief who thought he was oh-so-smart had just been found out!

The thief was nearing the large back patio. Quietly, Edward slid down from his hiding his place in the tree. Peering out from the bushes, he searched for the flickering motion of the dark cloth. He found it on the patio steps. As the thief ascended, Edward slipped around the bushes and closer to his target. He would have preferred capturing the thief from a distance, except his headache made him hesitate to perform a transmutation so far away. Besides, he was curious to see how what the Diamond Malum was carrying.

He crouched behind a particularly large bush and waited.

The burglar paused at the top of the steps and dropped his disguise. He looked remarkably ordinary, with short light brown hair and a square, bearded face. His clothes, on the other hand, were more interesting. All black, the cloth seemed to absorb the light around it, making it difficult to see clearly. The thief had lowered his burden to the ground. A long piece of the same dark cloth tied around the top of the sack ensuring it remained closed. That must have been the cloth he saw while the man was disguised. Edward watched in silent confusion as the thief positioned the large sack on the patio until he was apparently satisfied.

Then, standing straight he moved toward the door. As he did, Edward caught the telltale alchemic light in the man's hand before he once more disappeared from view. If Edward had not known the thief was there he would have thought the wind had blown the door open when it slowly creaked open and shut. The thief had not made a sound. He suppressed a shiver, this time not from the cold. Whoever this alchemist was he was very good at what he did.

With the thief gone inside the house, presumably to find some diamonds as he was named for, Edward took the time to examine the sack left on the porch.

It was abnormally long and the shape was definitely not that of any tools he could think of. Actually, it looked remarkably…human like. But that was ridiculous. He'd seen the file. There was absolutely no mention of anything like this. Surely if something like _that_ was at the scene it would have been noticed by the police, incompetent as they were.

The teenager crept closer, disregarding the mounting tension in his chest. He paused, listening. Given the speed the other crimes were committed Edward probably didn't have long until the thief came back. Still, he had to be sure. He couldn't leave without first confirming exactly what the thief had brought with him.

Edward was at the edge of the porch now. There was nowhere for him to hide if he got any closer. The patio was unfortunately large and exposed, particularly where the sack was. He hesitated. His head was still pounding something fierce and his body felt sluggish. Maye he should just get ready to trap the thief and inspect the bag later. Except the thief was an alchemist and alchemists, especially one using a type he'd never seen, tended to have more than one use for their alchemy. A skilled crook like this had to have brought the bag for a reason and he'd needed to know why before he captured him. The last thing he needed was the man pulling an unexpected trick courtesy of his mystery bag.

It was a flimsy excuse at best, but Edward pushed the annoying little voice away that said this was a bad idea. With how much his head hurt it wasn't hard. Edward glanced at the door one more time and then crept up onto the porch towards the sack.

A groan froze him in place.

What was that?

Another groan and this time the sack moved. Edward barely swallowed a yelp as he stumbled back. The sack was alive!

 _It's not alive,_ he scolded himself. _What's in it is alive_. His stomach pinched like an empty balloon inside him. Taking a quick fortifying breath, Edward approached the sack again, kneeling down to untie the knot. The thing inside the sack was quiet for the moment and the teenager wondered if he'd imagined it. When he got the tie loose and opened the bag to find a head full of greasy, mousy brown hair, he knew he hadn't.

The Diamond Malum had brought a person with him to the crime scene.

Somehow, Edward managed to pull the sack down far enough despite his shaking hands to see the captive's face and found a thin, dirty, bearded face. There was blood on the side of his head where the man had apparently been struck and knocked out. Questions flooded the young alchemist's mind that left him dizzy from the intensity. Why bring an unconscious man to the place the thief intended to rob? For what purpose? Surely someone would have noticed something at the crime scenes…

"Hello reviled one."

Startled from his thoughts, Edward whipped around. Only he moved too fast and the earlier dizziness swelled. Vaguely he saw the black color of the Diamond Malum's cloak and realized he'd been caught. Wheezing, the teenager staggered back. Then he was falling and everything went dark.

* * *

When Edward woke it was to a fierce migraine and ache throughout his body. He groaned. What happened? He felt like he was run over by a car and then trampled by a horse for good measure.

He tried to press his hand to his aching head only to find he couldn't move it.

Confused, the teenager forced his eyes open. Above him the sky was a pale blue with a few fluffy clouds going by.

Twisting, Edward looked up to see his hands secured above his head with rope that disappeared into a brick path. His hands were too far apart for him to have a chance of clapping and using his alchemy. The rope dug into his flesh wrist as he pulled, trying to get loose. There were similar bindings on his legs, he found a moment later as he tried to use them to gain leverage. He was stuck.

How did this happen? It hurt to think, but Edward forced his uncooperative mind to search his memories. He remembered getting up this morning not feeling well. Safe to say he felt a hundred times worse now. So why had he gotten up? There had to be a reason, undoubtedly because of that damn colonel…

The mission! That's right, he recalled, there was a new mission on Mustang's desk and Edward had decided to…to take it early. Why did he…oh, that's right. His previous mission had been bad. Very bad. Lots of things destroyed and chaos caused and angry officers. He was in trouble and had wanted to have something to shove in his commander's face to distract him.

He had a feeling that had not gone according to plan. Vaguely, the young alchemist recalled going to a large estate and waiting to catch a thief. The thief had finally shown up but he'd been carrying something strange…

The man! Edward's eyes jerked open as the memories returned. He'd found an unconscious man in the bag the thief had brought to the house and he'd been caught by said thief.

Movement caught his attention as someone stepped into his line of sight. Edward froze. It was the thief.

"I am Schmidt," the thief said, voice pitched to what Edward supposed was to be kind. It actually only served to make him sound creepy. "You are one of the reviled, you poor soul. No one cares who you are. But I will send you on to be loved."

Edward gaped at the man. "W-what?"

"I had not expected to find another one so soon or one so young," Schmidt went on. Edward froze when the man bent down and patted his head. "You are truly fortunate. The path is yet open to take another homeward."

"Don't touch me!" The teenager spat, his mind reeling as he jolted his head away from the man's touch. Reviled? Sent on to be loved? This guy was nuts. No, _insane_. He had to escape. Schmidt, as the thief had named himself, seemed unconcerned with Edward's anger and turned away. The minute the thief's back was turned Edward pulled against the ropes once more, his fear lending his efforts strength. But it wasn't enough. He was exhausted only moments later, having to stop in order to catch his breath and let the hammering in his head slow.

Schmidt was looking at him again, a sickly soft look on his face that might have been compassionate. As far as Edward was concerned it did nothing to hide his insanity, which made it worse.

"Diamonds are forged in the earth for those who would seek their truth. Do you know what that truth is, little reviled one?"

"Quit calling me that!" Edward spat, jerking against the ropes. He winced as his headache spiked. "I'm not small! And I'm not reviled or whatever crap you're on about."

Schmidt didn't appear to have heard him at all. Continuing to do whatever it was he was doing. Edward turned his head to find out what, peering around Schmidt. He recoiled in horror.

The man he'd found in the bag lay in pool of blood and mutilated flesh beside him. The blood was already seeping into the sleeves of his black jacket. How he hadn't noticed before, the teenager didn't know. But he felt it now, that cooling ooze of blood sticking to his skin. And Schmidt was dipping his fingers in the blood and putting it on a diamond ring, speaking quietly to himself. Edward strained anew against the ropes, tried to at least break his automail arm free so he could clap and get away. It was no use. Even with adrenaline fueling his struggle, his body hurt too much and lacked its usual strength.

 _This can't be happening_ , he thought, fighting back panic. Everything was spinning in and out of focus. Panting, Edward desperately tried to think. He'd gotten out of tougher situations than this. What was wrong with him? Think, damn it, think! But the pounding in his head made it impossible, and he was aware once more of the biting cold that made it hurt to move, much less pull on the ropes binding him. His automail arm and leg especially hurt.

"You see your fate and fear? Don't. He too was unloved and I have now sent him on where he will no longer be hated."

"That's not—you—you murdered him!" Edward cried, aghast as he stared at the disfigured form. It looked like Schmidt had _melted_ the man from the inside out. The parts that were still in once piece were marked with bio-alchemy and other symbols Edward did not recognize. Bile burned in the back of his throat and he tried again to yank free with no success. "What the hell did you do?"

Schmidt hummed absently, dipping his fingers in the blood and using it to draw on the ground closer to Edward. "I merely freed his soul. He was such a pitiful creature. So hated by this world. No one will notice, you see. They never do. How can they? Those that know love are cherished by those around them, not left forgotten in the dust."

"I'm not alone! I have a younger brother, you asshole!" Edward snarled, unnerved. Despite his proclamation, the thief's words rang in his head, piercing old wounds that he regularly buried and ignored. He shoved it all away as best he could, forcing his aching head to concentrate on trying to escape.

"You have quite an imagination, reviled one," Schmidt said with an amiable smile. "Surely if you were so well loved you, a child, would not have been here hiding and so ill. Not alone. The treasured child would surely be safe at home, under the care of their parents. And if you really loved this brother of yours, you'd be with him and not here, seeking the diamond path."

The man's words were like a knife in the gut. Edward struggled to breath, memories assaulting him of his mother's tender caress and comforting words when he was sick. Of her gentle smile and warm hug. Something he'd never have again. He'd tried and brought hell down on his brother and himself. And Alphonse… he'd damned his younger brother to be a soul trapped in a suit of armor, who'd had every right to hate him for doing such a thing to him. Now Alphonse couldn't taste, couldn't feel, and couldn't smell anything. And he could not sleep. Without his body, he didn't need those things and Edward hated himself for it. Despite that Alphonse was still by his side.

"S-Shut up! You don't know anything, you crazy bastard," Edward rasped, the guilt of his mistakes crushing him even as he attempted to refute Schmidt's words.

Schmidt didn't answer. He took the blood coated diamond ring and set is aside with care beside the corpse. Then he pulled a second diamond ring from somewhere in his cloak and began to murmur foreign words. It sounded like a chant.

Edward's muscles went rigid, a deep terror lancing through him. His throat was dry and his stomach churned inside him. Then Schmidt looked up and Edward saw death in his eyes. The killer came towards him.

"Stay away from me!" Edward screamed, frantically pulling against the ropes. "Get away!"

"Don't be scared reviled one. Your suffering is at an end. It is time to show you the way."

Edward's voice died in his throat as Schmidt loomed over him. There was absolutely nothing he could do. He was trapped, completely helpless.

Suddenly the rope on his wrists sparked and disintegrated, freeing his hands. Schmidt jerked back, face contorted in surprise. Edward stared back dumbly, scrambling to understand what was happening. A moment later the rope tying his legs met the same fate. He was free. But how?

"Move Fullmetal!"

Edward was obeying before he even knew he was moving. He rolled away from Schmidt and the corpse into the dirt alongside the path. He heard the snap of alchemy and Schmidt howling. Wide-eyed, Edward stared as orange fire encircled the man's arms and hands, effectively burning them and ruining his ability to attack. And just past him, standing on the garden path, was Colonel Roy Mustang.

Fingers poised to snap again, black eyes narrow, and jaw set in a dark scowl, the older alchemist looked absolutely livid.

"Surrender or burn," the colonel growled, chest heaving. The rest of Mustang's team, all with their guns at the ready, fanned out from behind Mustang to create a half circle around Schmidt.

Whimpering, Schmidt stared at his burned hands. Then, with an enraged scream, he slammed his hands into the ground. Despite his burns, the alchemy worked and the earth rolled beneath them. A gunshot rang out and the earth abruptly stilled as Schmidt dropped boneless to the ground.

The team rushed forward, surrounding the fallen perpetrator, guns still at the ready.

Distantly, Edward heard Lieutenant Hawkeye say, "He's dead sir."

Mustang must have answered, but what he said, Edward couldn't understand. His gaze was locked on the corpse of the man that he'd been tied next to. The rolling earth had moved the body towards the young alchemist, the blood sluggishly spreading out toward him like black hands.

Trembling, his head swimming, Edward couldn't think or move. He could barely breathe. He could only stare in numb horror.

"You idiot!"

The enraged shout finally drew Edward's attention. He blinked slowly as Mustang stomped over, unable to fully comprehend what was happening until a hand grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him off the ground. Suddenly the body and the blood were gone from sight, replaced by the living, and quite angry, visage of his commanding officer.

"What the hell were you thinking? You nearly got yourself killed!" Furious dark eyes bore into him. Edward's breath caught, remembering those same burning eyes demanding to know what he had done in the aftermath of hell, demanding he take responsibility for his sin. Mustang. Mustang had come for him. And he was furious.

The boy tried to swallow, but his tongue seemed to have doubled in size. The world around him spun in and out of focus as his stomach tried to climb out his throat.

Vaguely, he was aware of the grip on his collar loosening and falling to his knees. His body was jelly and he would have just collapsed completely as he started hurling except two hands caught him. One held him up and the other had pulled his hair back from him face. When at last the heaving stopped, Edward's head was drumming so hard he thought it was going to explode. Dully, the blonde felt hands gently guide him away from the mess.

"Damn it kid."

"C-Colonel?" Edward whispered, trying and failing to understand why the man was there. Nothing was making any sense anymore. He groaned, curling his legs up towards his stomach. Something wet was dripping down his face.

"Look at me, Edward."

Blinking hazy eyes, Edward tried to obey. A hand helped and tipped his chin up. Mustang's face swam in and out of focus. The older alchemist's dark eyes were filled with worry. No, that couldn't be right. The colonel was furious with him, not worried. Mustang was never worried, not about Edward. Just about his career and appearances. Yet he could not deny the man did appear sincerely concerned.

"Are you injured? Did he hurt you?"

It took a minute and Mustang repeating the question before Edward could answer. "I-I don't…think so." It sounded uncertain even to his ears. Edward tried to focus and assess his body, but he was too tired and hurting far too much.

"Hurts," Ed admitted, pressing a hand against his head. He withdrew it a moment later in confusion at the stickiness. Looking at his hand, his breath caught in dismay. It was stained red. Then it was gone from his sight, pushed down by a large gloved hand

"I don't doubt it. You're burning up. Can you stand?"

No. But Edward tried anyway. His legs wobbled beneath him and before he even got off the ground they gave out. He wasn't expecting to be lifted up a moment later. Instinctively, he grabbed on to the person who'd picked him up, in this case one Colonel Mustang. Hazy as his brain was, Edward found himself ashamed of being held like a child at first and then not caring. The man was surprisingly warm, and his grip on the young alchemist was strong and sure. For the first time in what seemed like hours, Edward felt safe. He buried his face in the colonel's shoulder as a shudder wracked his body and a sob caught in his throat.

"Try to take deep slow breathes, ok Ed? You're going to be fine." Mustang's normally even voice sounded strained, but he didn't know why. Edward sniffled and tried to do as he was told. Mustang was talking again, but Edward was too exhausted to figure out what he was saying. It was hard enough just trying to breathe like he was told. But there was something soothing in hearing Mustang speak, even when he didn't understand. It reminded him that he was safe. Gradually everything faded away, even the pounding in his head.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)**

 **Have a great day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello readers! I'm back with another chapter! Well, technically it's part one of chapter 4 since this chapter just kept growing. My sister said cut it in half and post it already, since she gave it a quick beta read (thanks sis!), so here it is. :D Ta-da! I present an angst-fest of Roy Mustang feelings for everyone to enjoy.**

 **Real quick, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, fav'd, or followed this story! You guys are awesome and I hope ya'll enjoy this latest chapter.**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 (part 1)**

* * *

Roy swallowed back panic as Edward went limp. The boy burned with fever and with blood all over his clothes, there was no way of knowing for sure how injured he was. While he suspected most of the blood was from the corpse that had been next to the teenager, he didn't know for sure. Edward's slurred answer had done nothing to reassure the colonel.

"Damn it," he swore, shifting the young alchemist's weight in his arms. "Lieutenant Hawkeye! Is the scene secure?"

"Yes sir. More MPs are on their way and will be here in a few minutes. Colonel, is Edward…?"

"He needs a hospital. Get the car. Hughes, you're in charge here. Collect the evidence and thoroughly document the scene. I want to know what the hell this guy was doing."

"Yes, sir." Hughes snapped off a sharp salute. The normally jovial man was sending anxious glances at Edward. Actually, the whole team was, but Roy barely noticed. His whole attention was on the unconscious, shivering, feverish child he held tight in his grasp and the terror of knowing Edward needed medical treatment immediately.

"Roy." Dark eyes met Hughes' green ones. "Take care of him"

The colonel gave a single, crisp nod before he took off at a run after Hawkeye.

The drive to the hospital was a nightmare. It didn't seem possible, but Edward's fever seemed to grow worse. Even his automail was hot. In desperation, Roy placed his gloved hand on the boy's shoulder and activated a transmutation to draw the heat very carefully out of his body. He was no biologist or doctor so he did not dare attempt it long. It would be just as easy to send the child into shock from rapidly cooling. The transmutation didn't seem to do anything. The fever still raged.

He swore and barked at Hawkeye to drive faster. She obeyed, her hands tensing on the wheel.

Even though Hawkeye was driving well past the speed limit it seemed to take forever to Roy. Edward felt like a coal in his lap. He activated the array again, carefully calling the heat away. This time he could feel a difference, though only just. It wasn't enough. Not by far, but he dared not risk anything further. There was nothing else he could do. Useless. He was damn useless and it was killing him inside. Even though he didn't believe in God, he found himself praying fervently. It wasn't really a prayer, merely a plea; a plea that the very sick child in his arms would be all right. Edward was just a boy and he had so much to do, so much life yet to live. Ed _had_ to be all right.

Finally they arrived at the hospital. Hawkeye barely had time to stop the car before Roy was yanking the door opening and stumbling out with his charge.

"Hey, I need help over here!" Roy barked as he rushed inside the hospital doors.

For a moment there was stunned silence and then a flurry of doctors and nurses came towards him.

 _"What happened?"_

 _"There's so much blood!"_

 _"He's just a little boy…"_

Their exclamations blended together. Grinding his teeth, Roy focused on one man in a white coat he knew must be a doctor.

"He has a high fever. The blood isn't his."

"How long has he been unconscious?" The doctor asked.

"About ten minutes."

The doctor's eye grew wide and he snapped a command to the nurse and she scurried away, calling directions to other staff.

"He has an automail arm and leg," Roy added, holding the boy tighter as a nurse came pushing a gunnery. Suddenly he didn't dare let go because if he did…

"I understand, sir," the doctor said, and without warning somehow, though Roy had no idea how, plucked the teenager from Roy's grasp and laid him on the gunnery with the help of the nurses.

Roy felt a rush of cold that seeped into his very bones as they started to take Edward away. Immediately he started to follow only for a nurse to block his path as the doors swung shut behind the doctors and his unconscious subordinate. The nurse was speaking but Roy didn't hear a word she said. His eyes were locked onto the swinging doors that had separated him from his subordinate.

"Colonel."

He blinked, jolted back to his surroundings. Lieutenant Hawkeye was beside him, her normally implacable expression laced with concern. "The nurses need to know Edward's medical history."

Paperwork. He could focus on paperwork. He did it every day at the office, right? Boring, unnecessary, excessive paperwork he had to sign and fill out. Forcing himself to calm, Roy let his usual mask click into place, the worry and fear locked away behind his walls. This was not the time to fall apart. He could do this and it would help Edward, if only a little, but it was something.

Jerking a nod, Roy turned away from the double doors that had hidden his subordinate from view and followed the lieutenant to the reception desk.

* * *

"You haven't heard anything yet?"

"No Hughes," Roy growled, glaring at the phone box as he tried to keep his temper under control. To say he was frustrated was an understatement. The colonel had sent Hawkeye to find Alphonse and bring him to the hospital while he was completing Fullmetal's paperwork. With no news from the doctors, Roy had decided to call headquarters for an update on the case. Anything was better than sitting in the waiting room trying not to think about the blood and bile staining his uniform. He had the operator re-direct his call to his office where his team had started to gather. Hughes had answered the phone and Roy had tried asking the man about the case. Hughes, however, was proving most uncooperative and demanding answers to the questions Roy himself wanted and didn't have.

"You could always ask again. They might—"

"I told you, the last time I asked I was told the doctor would come see me soon and to wait. Now tell me about the damn case!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone line for a moment. Rubbing his temples, the alchemist took a breath and slowly released it. "Please Maes."

It was as much of an apology Roy could muster.

"All right, Roy."

The colonel slumped, leaning against the side of the phone booth, relieved. "So what have you learned?"

"Surprisingly a whole lot and a whole lot of nothing at the same time."

Roy felt his eyebrows inch up. "Oh? Care to explain?"

He listened quietly as Hughes began to describe what the team had learned in the past hour about Diamond Malum. Foremost, the man's name was Schmidt and he was originally from Drachma. Breda had found a battered photograph of their killer and a young woman in his coat with the man's name, the date and location scrawled on the back. There was a swastika that had been drawn in a woman's hand along with a brief note. Hughes had gotten it translated and it simply said, ' _good luck my love'_.

A call to Fort Briggs in the north had confirmed that Schmidt wasn't in their records and was an illegal immigrant. Yeah, big surprise there. General Armstrong wouldn't be happy to learn someone had slipped past her and her men, he mused with a sneer.

"That swastika on the photo explains his pattern of attack," Roy said, frowning. "But why diamonds and why murder?"

"I'm afraid we only found a partial answer. When I called Fort Briggs to see if they have any record of Schmidt, which as expected they didn't, I asked about any customs or religious practices involving diamonds that Drachma has. Apparently there's this old custom of using diamonds in some sort of ceremony at big events, like weddings, births, and deaths. The guy I spoke to didn't know any more than that, but he promised to look into it."

"I take it diamonds and murder were not usually one of those big events," Roy said dryly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. So what had caused the murder spree? There had to be something that triggered the man. Like the murderer, Barry the Chopper, who'd been incarcerated in Central a couple months ago, had his so called realization it was more fun to chop up people than just be a butcher of animals. The result was the brutal murder of twelve women before he was captured. It turned Roy's stomach even thinking about it. The Diamond Malum must have had a similar realization that led to him stealing and murdering innocents. And he had a feeling he knew what the key was to unlocking that mystery.

"The woman in the photograph; do you have any idea who she is?"

"I asked the sergeant in Briggs to look into it. But if he's an illegal immigrant chances are, she was too."

Roy hummed, not surprised the lieutenant colonel had already thought of it and was investigating.

"Have you learned anything else?"

"Well, there's the black clothes and cloak Schmidt had. I've never seen anything like it before. The cloak seems to act like a mirror of everything around it, reflecting back outward. At least that's what I can tell. Havoc noticed some transmutation marks on it, so whatever he did it basically makes the person wearing it invisible. The clothes are a little different. They seem to absorb light so if Schmidt was in a shadowed corner or something without the cloak, he'd probably still have been near impossible to see."

Roy only vaguely recalled the black clothes the killer had worn. His attention had been preoccupied with his trapped and terrified subordinate underneath the man. It had taken all his self-control to not incinerate the man on the spot. Even thinking about had him grinding his teeth again. Very carefully, Roy took a breath and unclenched his jaw.

"So that's why no one has seen him at the crime scenes."

"It certainly explains why we never had any witnesses that could provide a description. Have you ever heard of alchemy being used like this?"

"Manipulating clothes? Sure. That's actually fairly basic. But I've never heard of someone transmuting a cloak that practically makes a person invisible. What's the cloth made of? You mentioned it acts like a mirror. So the surface is reflective?"

"Yeah, kind of." Hughes clicked his tongue. "Actually, when I first looked at it I thought it was made of, well, diamonds."

"Of course it does," Roy muttered. What was it with the diamonds? There had to be a reason for the fixation. Unfortunately, aside from the killer himself, the only one who might know was somewhere in this damn hospital with a raging fever. Fingers curling into a fist, he brought his arm up and let it slam against the wall in frustration. It took considerable effort to force his mind to not think about the blond teenager and focus on the case. There was one more question he had to ask.

"What do we know about the victim that Schmidt already murdered when we arrived on scene?"

"His name is Karl McCoy. Thirty-four years old."

That was definitely not what Roy was expecting to hear. He straightened, his senses tingling with an alert.

"Hughes…"

"He was discharged from the Corp of Engineers following an accident in the factory where he worked that crippled his legs. According to the doctor's report, his nerves were too damaged for automail. Since he could no longer work, the brass discharged him."

"Hughes," Roy cut in, not liking the monotone way his friend was speaking. "How do you know this?"

"I knew him."

Swallowing convulsively, Roy forced himself to not react further. It was his turn to remain composed for his friend. "How did you know him?"

There was a deep sigh and a soft clang and Roy knew the man had taken of his glasses. "I didn't know him. Not really. I just remember meeting him one day. He helped repair the radios for my team. Nice guy."

Hughes was not the kind of man to say things like this. Normally, it was him who was saying things like this to Hughes. The turnaround was disorienting to say the least. Still, if Hughes was taking the time to say these things there must be a reason. Roy kept quiet, waiting.

"When he was discharged he was left without a home," Hughes finally said. "No wife, no siblings, and parents dead. He was homeless, Roy. Crippled and homeless."

The colonel slouched against the wall, the weight of what his friend was saying striking home. Holding the phone to his ear was taking all his effort.

"Damn it," he rasped. "The others then. They were probably all homeless too."

Hughes didn't answer. Not that he needed to. This explained why no one had filed any missing person's reports for the victims. For a report to exist someone would have had to miss them. Obviously no one had. Their killer had chosen the perfect targets for his spree. In all likelihood, the other victims would never be identified.

How many more victims could be out there? How many more had Schmidt killed before he arrived in East City? There was no way to know. Roy's stomach churned and he leaned more heavily against the wall.

In East City and the eastern part of the country in general, soldiers were often viewed as pawns or brutes. This was especially true after the seven year rebellion that resulted in the death of hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians alike. People hated the military, hated the soldiers and what they had come to represent: death and destruction.

After coming back from Ishval, thousands of soldiers suffered from what doctors termed 'shell shock'. The soldiers themselves called in battle fatigue. It left them unable to function, struggling with nightmares and terrors. Some had become dangerous to others and themselves and had to be forcibly locked up. Hundreds of others resigned their positions from the military and went home. But home no longer welcomed them. Even though they no longer wore the uniform, the former soldiers were still viewed as fiends and not worthy of any kindness. They took to drink and smoking, anything to lock the memories of the hell they'd been in. Many ended up on the streets, desperate and alone. Some committed suicide. Others died from the elements and starvations. And a small few crawled back to the military in hopes of having some place to take refuge. The military took them back of course, but the men were forever marked as cowards for leaving in the first place.

Roy had been lucky, if one could call it that. He had already determined a purpose in remaining in the military before he'd step foot on the train back from the ruins of Ishval. He was going to the top and he was going to change things so nothing like Ishval ever happened again. That had not stopped the nightmares or the sometimes uncontrollable shaking or reactions to loud noises; not even the occasional too much to drink when everything proved too overwhelming. What it did was give him a reason to push onward, to forge a new path despite the way being nothing but a river of mud and blood. He had a choice: to be consumed by the guilt and shame of the monster he had become, or keep moving forward and try to make up for it however he could, though he knew it would never be enough by half.

In the months following the end of the war, he had struggled with the fate of his fellow soldiers. He had tried to help where he could and had even asked General Grumman for assistance in doing something for the broken soldiers. For a while, shelters had been set up and the men and women got the help they needed. Some were able to start living again. Others had not. And countless others were too proud and did not take the offered help because it came from the military.

He could still remember with perfect clarity that cold, rainy day coming across the corpse of a homeless man and the shock of realizing he knew the man. A corporal, Henry Miller had served under Major Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist. The young soldier had been a good man as far as Roy had known. But the war had destroyed him and Kimblee had further ruined him with his enjoyment of the destruction. Looking on the pale, thin, and filthy shell of the once happy youth, Roy had staggered away and vomited.

There was nothing to be done to help Corporal Miller. So Roy had straightened and kept walking and met Hughes. Together, they'd gotten absolutely drunk in Roy's apartment. The next morning, hung over beyond belief, Roy had called and arranged for the man's burial in the pauper's field on the outskirts of the city. Later that day, the two of them had gone out to the cemetery and looked on the new grave. The cemetery had nearly doubled in size since the last time Roy had seen it. Hughes had looked around at all the unmarked graves, countenance bleak. "It's such a damn shame. Whatever they did, in the end we're all just human. They shouldn't be forgotten."

It was one of the few times he remembered Maes sounding lost. Normally, the man was so strong, anchoring Roy in the present and pushing him forward whenever he faltered. Not that day.

"I'll never forget," Roy had answered. He didn't forget any of them. Those he had killed, those who had been killed fighting beside him. He had no intention of forgetting. They deserved to be remembered and when he became Fuhrer he would honor them all. After that day, the men had never spoken about it again and Roy had doubled his efforts to move up the ranks. He had to keep moving forward. There was nothing to be done for the dead. For the dead knew no more sorrow or anguish. They knew nothing. It was the living who remained who struggled to go onward, who grieved and hurt for those lost.

The victims of the Diamond Malum were nameless, and largely faceless. In the end, they too would be buried in the pauper's field. He would remember them anyway, however little he could. Time would blur it, he knew, but he would remember each time he set foot on the pauper's burial ground.

"There will always be homeless people around," he croaked. "You do what you can for who you can."

Hughes barked a surprised, bitter laugh. "Yeah."

There was nothing more to say. Roy had this argument with Maes more than once during the first year after the war. He was the one who told Roy there would always be homeless people around and to do what he could for who he could. It was a poor comfort. When he'd said as much, Hughes had glared and told him he better work faster to climb to the top then if he wanted to change that too. Roy knew there was no way a city could not have impoverished people. He understood that even if Maes had thought he was being too naïve and idealistic. But Roy had grown up around people who had to scrape by just to put food on the table, who were one step away from being out on the street. Those people were no less worthy of help than anyone else. They mattered even if the upper echelons of society liked to pretend they didn't exist. Something needed to be done to help them. After burying Corporal Miller, Hughes had never argued with Roy about it again. He understood then.

"You best go check on Edward," Hughes said at last. "Throw your rank around or something. You should have heard something by now."

"Agreed," Roy said, forcing himself to straighten. Carefully, he began to rein in his emotions. There was nothing he could do for McCoy or the other victims. But he could find out the condition of his youngest subordinate. Before he could say anything else there was a sudden clamor on the other end of the line. There was a loud bang and then a young voice cried out in desperation.

"Please tell me where Brother is! I've been trying to find out what happened for hours now!" Alphonse cried. Even over the phone, Roy could hear the boy's fear and desperation. He heard the murmur of voices from the rest of the team trying to soothe him.

"Hughes, tell Alphonse that Hawkeye will bring him to the hospital. I sent her back to headquarters a while ago."

"Will do," came the hasty response. "She walked in just behind him."

Satisfied that things were in hand at the office, Roy hung up. He straightened his uniform and took a deep breath, careful reconstructing his bland mask, making sure there was no trace of evidence left of his feelings other than his impatience, which was genuine.

Then, with deliberate steps, the colonel turned and walked back toward the main waiting area.

When he approached the desk, the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a pinched face, looked up and sighed. "No, Colonel Mustang. There is no news yet on your subordinate. I promised to inform you as soon as I know anything."

Before he could express his frustration at the continued silence, she held up a hand. "Why don't you go shower and clean up? That way, when the doctor comes, you'll be allowed back to see Mr. Elric."

Roy blinked, and glanced down at uniform at the blood and bile. Grimacing, he nodded in acquiesce. Seeming relieved, the woman called to a male nurse to show him where the showers were.

It took less than ten minutes for the alchemist to shower and put back on his uniform, sans jacket. That jacket was bundled inside a cloth laundry bag and he set it at his feet when he returned to the waiting room. Judging by the receptionist's expression, she had hoped he would be gone a longer. Too bad for her, Roy thought with a sneer. On any other day he would have charmed her, but not today.

He glanced at the clock again and silently fumed. It had been over an hour since they took Edward back. Shouldn't someone have come to tell him how his subordinate was doing by now? There was only one reason the colonel could think of for why no one had come yet and he struggled to reject the thought. Fullmetal was going to be _fine_. It was just a fever.

 _A dangerously high fever_ , part of his mind argued. _And with other possible unknown injuries_.

Shutting his eyes, Roy folded his hands in his lap and forced himself to calm down, or at least appear calm. Another ten minutes and he was going to demand to see Edward, protocol be damned.

He was just getting ready to storm up to the receptionist and demand to be taken to his subordinate when a doctor came into the waiting room. To Roy's surprise, he recognized the man.

The doctor, one Clint Cassidy was the doctor on record who had examined Edward after he joined the military. Roy had insisted on it despite the pre-teen's protests. Like it or not, the colonel had a responsibility to look after his subordinates and their health, especially his newest and youngest. He'd chosen the doctor after careful deliberation and had been quite pleased with the man's performance. One factor had been the doctor's relaxed appearance and manner. With graying brown hair and a square jaw covered in a neatly trimmed beard, what could have been a fierce face was tempered by kind hazel eyes and easy smile. He'd easily distracted Edward during his examination, talking with the suspicious teen candidly all the while. When Cassidy had arrived, Roy didn't know, but he was glad to see him. He probably would have incinerated the other doctor on the spot for making him wait so damn long.

He met the man halfway across the waiting room.

"Colonel Mustang."

"Dr. Cassidy. How is my subordinate?"

The doctor inclined his head and the colonel easily fell in step beside him as they made their way down the hallway, presumably towards Edward's room.

"He has a couple bruises, but nothing too serious," Dr. Cassidy began, anticipating the colonel's main concern. "The only one I'm apprehensive about is the one on the side of his head. It is quite small and I don't think it will be an issue. However, it is rather difficult to assess given his fever."

Here the doctor frowned. "There has been a rather nasty flu going around the city for the past month. There have only been a few cases of the children coming down with this virus and it always seems to hit them harder than adults. Dr. Quinn told me the boy's fever was dangerously high when you brought him in." Dr. Cassidy looked at Roy, solemn. "And I suspect it was higher. Whatever you did, Colonel, you probably saved his life."

Roy didn't know it was possible to feel like he'd been stabbed in the chest not once, but twice and not actually have a scratch. He sucked in a harsh breath and he shut his eyes tight for a moment, trying to keep his composure. It had been too close. Way too close.

Exhaling, Roy refocused his attention on the doctor. "Why did it take so long for someone to inform me of Fullmetal's condition?" He wasn't able to mask the edge of anger in his words and he didn't particularly care.

"I'm afraid there was an emergency with another patient that required immediate surgery. Dr. Quinn was called in to assist."

Roy made a mental note of the name. Emergency or not, someone should have come out and told him about Edward's condition. He was going to make sure it never happened again. "And the nurses?"

"They were tending to Mr. Elric or called away to assist with other patients. I apologize, Colonel. They only called me a half hour ago and asked I come in. I'll make sure such an oversight doesn't happen again."

 _No_ , Roy wordlessly vowed. _It wouldn't_. He'd make sure of it.

"You said he has a few bruises, but no other injuries. What about the fever?"

"Currently, we are treating Mr. Elric with fever and pain reducing medication. The nurses are using ice packs as well, especially around his automail ports. His fever is still high, but is coming down. Regrettably, there is little else that can be done. We have no medicine or vaccination to specifically counter this. The fever has to run its course."

Roy scowled at this. While it was good to hear Edward's fever had subsided some, that it was still high and that the boy had to ride it out did not sit well with him.

"I'll be frank, Colonel," Dr. Cassidy said, leveling a serious look at Roy. "I think once his fever has gone down you should take him home. While we can certainly keep the boy comfortable, there is little else we can do. Being in a more familiar setting, however, will certainly help make the recovery easier."

The colonel arched a brow. Doctor Cassidy's expression didn't change. The doctor meant it. They turned a corner and started down another hallway, presumably toward the room where Edward was at.

"Doctors typically don't release their patients so early. Usually they keep the patient for observation a couple days," Roy observed, keeping his tone casually confused. Why did the doctor want Edward released from the hospital so quickly?

Dr. Cassidy grimaced, and responded quietly. "Under normal circumstances I would not recommend releasing Mr. Elric. Apparently while Dr. Quinn and the nurses were first working to lower his fever, the boy started hallucinating. He said some very…concerning things, Colonel."

Here the doctor's blue eyes cut hard to Roy.

"I understand Mr. Elric was on a mission when he collapsed. Do you know what happened?"

"I'm afraid the details are confidential due to the nature of the mission," Roy answered smoothly, not allowing his expression to show how this troubled him. The team had known next to nothing about the Diamond Malum's person at the time and there was no way of knowing what had happened before they had arrived on the scene. From the information his team had gathered now he could make a few guesses however, and none boded good. He resisted the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. None of this should have happened. Edward should have never been in this situation, fighting for his life because of a fever of all things. He shoved the anger and the guilt to the back of his mind to deal with later. There were more important things needing his attention at the moment.

Dr. Cassidy hummed, frowning with displeasure. "Whatever happened Colonel, he needs to be in a familiar place with family and not here in the hospital. I suspect it may have opened old wounds."

Roy forced back the instinct to react, maintaining his usual bland expression though just barely.

"Is that so?" He murmured, appearing disinterested even as his mind raced. Silently he cursed. The younger alchemist had likely said something about his mother and possibly _that_ night. Given how high his fever was it shouldn't have come as a surprise, but the colonel had not even considered the possibility. _Idiot_ , he chided. Getting Edward out of the hospital and somewhere safe to recover had just become his top priority. Dr. Cassidy knew that Edward and Alphonse' mother was dead and their father gone. The doctor didn't know the details of what happened, of course, but he was a smart man. He knew the loss of Trisha Elric had been hard on the brothers. He was also aware the brothers lived in the dorms at military headquarters when they stayed in the city. And there was no mistaking the man's emphasis on Edward needing to stay with family. Clearly the doctor meant more than just his younger brother.

Roy quickly considered his options. There was Edward's automail mechanics, the Rockbells of course, but they were out in Resembool and there was no way he was putting the sick teenager on a train for hours on end. And there was the fact only Hawkeye and himself actually knew about the taboo the Elric's committed.

He internally sighed. That left only one real viable option.

"Very well. When do you estimate Fullmetal will be ready to be discharged?"

"I'll monitor his condition and if the fever keeps going down like it has I'd feel comfortable discharging him this evening."

"Sounds reasonable." More importantly, it gave Roy enough time to properly prepare. "And you're sure releasing him early won't worsen his condition?"

"Yes, Mr. Elric should be fine. I recommend you keep a close eye on him, however, and if there are any new symptoms or the fever returns bring him back immediately."

Roy nodded in agreement, mind already busy on the details he'd have to work out for the young alchemist's release as they continued walking down the hall.

"This is his room," Dr. Cassidy said, pausing and gesturing to the door of room 312, breaking through Roy's thoughts.

"Thank you, doctor. I—"

A commotion inside interrupted the colonel and both men turned in surprise. Someone was shouting, screaming actually. It was Edward and he sounded terrified.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! I know it's another cliffhanger, but the next chapter won't be, I promise. ;) In the meantime, please let me know what you think.**

 **Have a great week!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm baaack! So sorry about the long delay. But here at last is the next chapter and it's another angst-fest. Poor Edward...I think I broke him a little...**

 **Anywho, thank you guys so much for the reviews and favs! _Isis Ma'at, kuteluver, kagomeinu18, YAJJ, kushina410, Attackoneverything, darkraistlyn, SakuraNights01_ , and all the guest reviewers, you guys are awesome! Thank you for taking the time to leave a review. I appreciate each and every one!**

 **Hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. :D**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 ** _Edit:_ A/N 2: I forgot to mention this in the one-shot I posted "The Right Partner", but a fellow author, DragonRedfox posted a story that was virtually what I could imagine to be a sequel to my own story not long before I posted my own. It's a beautiful one shot about Roy and Riza and their last dance as suggested in the title: "Save the last dance for me". So if there are any readers who enjoyed my story, you can check under my favorites and find the link to DragonRedfox's one shot. Or if you just enjoy Roy and Riza, go check it out! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

Edward looked around in confusion. Where was he? Everything was a blur of color and shapes. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again, hoping everything would come into focus. It did.

He was on the floor of a small kitchen. Warm afternoon light streamed in from a large kitchen window over the sink. By the sink there was a small vase full of wild flowers. Glancing around, he found a sturdy wooden table and chairs and on the chair hung a white apron with floral stitching on the edges. Edward inhaled sharply. He knew that apron. Looking around again, he realized he knew the kitchen too. He was home, back in Resembool.

Climbing slowly to his feet, Edward looked around in amazement. The kitchen was clean and well used, just like he remembered. All that was missing was—

"Edward."

 _Mom._

Spinning around, Edward found his mother standing in the back kitchen door, a basket of laundry in her hand. Her light brown hair was loosely tied and resting on her shoulder, her purple dress rippling with the breeze behind her.

"Honey, what are you doing? I thought you and Al were playing with Winry."

It was her voice. Mom's voice. That soft, loving voice he'd never expected to hear again. But she couldn't be here, right? When he didn't answer, she frowned and came inside, setting her basket on the ground.

"Edward?"

He wanted it to be real. He wanted it to really be his mom. Was everything else just a horrible nightmare? Perhaps it was. And she really was here, alive and well.  
"Mom?" He whispered, vision blurring.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Mom," he whispered again, a little stronger. Could it really be her? He wanted it to be her. He wanted it to really be his mother. But there was a cold, hard knot inside him, reminding him she had died. She couldn't be here. The house couldn't be here either. It had burned to the ground when Edward and Alphonse had left Resembool.

"You're not real," he muttered. Then this was all…a dream?

"What do you mean, Edward?"

She knelt down in front of him, studying him with concern.

"Are you feeling all right?" A hand lifted to touch his forehead and Edward drew back. The confusion and hurt on her face stung. But this was a dream. She wasn't here. She couldn't check his temperature or anything else.

"What's wrong, Ed?"

He shook his head mutely. There was nothing to say. She wasn't real.

"Edward."

The boy flinched, his heart aching at his mom's tender admonishment. Sighing, he looked up. Mom's gentle smile waited for him, green eyes warm with love. He missed her. He missed her so much! Then suddenly her face morphed and she was that thing, the hideous creature he had made her into. Edward yelped and started to back away only to find black hands held him fast, cutting into him like ice. "No! Let go! Let GO!"

Edward thrashed as the monster came toward him. "Why couldn't you do it, right? Look what you did to me. My own son. You turned me into this."

"I'm sorry," Edward cried. She was right. It was all his fault. He was the one who had pushed onward, disregarding his teacher's warning, all the warnings in books, and even his brother's hesitation. It was all on him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Mom!"

"I already died once. Wasn't that enough? Then you killed me again."

Sobbing, Edward twisted away from the monstrous face that had replaced the loving visage of his mother. He couldn't face her. He couldn't. This sin of his was too much and he couldn't face it.

Something icy cold touched his face. Edward shrieked, not ready for it. He spun around, ready to fight, and tripped over his own feet. Next thing the teenager knew he was face first in the ground. Groaning, he reached up and rubbed his aching head.

"That was quite the spectacle, Brother."

"Al?"

Edward immediately looked around for his younger brother. The tall suit of armor stood a few feet away, soul fire eyes burning bright. Hastily, Edward swiped at the remaining tears on his face as he got back to his feet. His knees wobbled and he took an unsteady step forward.

"What are you doing?"

The cold question froze Edward in his tracks. He looked up at his brother, realizing anger was radiating from the younger boy.

"Al, I—"

"Save it," Alphonse cut in. "We both know whatever you say next is going to be a lie. I thought you weren't going to cry since I can't cry anymore. You said you wouldn't. But I guess that's to be expected."

"Alphonse, knock it off," Edward snapped, cheeks heating. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

Immediately he felt guilty. He had decided that since Alphonse could no longer cry, he wouldn't. It was only fair. Except he'd just done it, again. He shouldn't have. He hadn't cried during automail surgery. He didn't even scream. Before he could apologize, Alphonse answered coldly. "Like you didn't kill mom again on purpose or trap me in this armor?"

Stunned by the hatred in his brother's words, Edward could only gape. "Wha—Al, I—"

"No more lies," Alphonse cut in. "We're done."

Alphonse's words rang in Edward's ears, growing and shrieking until it sounded like a siren. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he was on fire one second and drowning the next. Al was going to leave him. If Al was leaving, then what did he have left?

"Al!" Blindly he reached for his younger brother. "Al, please! I'm sorry. I know it's all my fault, but I—"

"Of course it's your fault!" Alphonse shouted, metal fist clenched and directed at Edward. "I didn't want to do it. I told you so. But you didn't listen."

"I know I didn't." The regret Edward felt for ignoring his younger brother rested like a boulder on his chest.

Alphonse went on as if he had not heard. "Not only did you kill Mom again, but I lost my body! I can't feel anything. Not the rain or the grass or the wind. I can't eat, or sleep, and all because of _you_!"

"I'm sorry," Edward whispered, unable to refute Alphonse's words. Every accusation was like a knife to his heart.

"You're sorry? You destroyed my life!"

There was nothing to say. Edward knew it was true. His shoulders hunched and he couldn't look at the suit of armor. The suit of armor he had tied his brother's soul to in a last ditch attempt to not lose him completely.

"Goodbye, brother."

Edward snapped upright. Alphonse had turned and was storming away. No, he couldn't leave like this. Yes, Edward knew he deserved it, but he had to make things right. He had too, somehow. "Al wait! Please, I—"

He tripped again, falling face first into the cold ground. The teen lay there for a moment, stunned as he tried to gather his wits. Distantly, he heard the clanking steps of his brother's armored body.

"Al."

There was no answer only the receding clanking steps. Edward's automail hand curled into a fist. He'd given his arm to bind Alphonse's soul to the suit of armor because he couldn't let his brother die that night. He couldn't be responsible for two deaths. But really, he had just been selfish. What life did Al have? Alphonse's accusations rang in his ears. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't eat, and couldn't sleep. And all because of Edward.

Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks. It didn't matter how much he apologized, how guilty he felt. There was no forgiving what he had done. That Alphonse had stayed with him this long was a wonder. The armored boy had never said anything, but Edward had known. Alphonse hated him. He'd wanted to ask, but he was too much of a coward to. Getting Al's body back would make things right, but it could not take back what had been done. And the only chance of that was finding the Philosopher's Stone. But the past year had been one dead end after another. How long would they search? How long would Alphonse stay with him?

It looked like he had his answer. Alphonse would leave Edward in the dust as soon as he could. He couldn't blame him.

Time ceased to matter as Edward grew numb. He lay there, not really aware of anything, just drifting. Maybe he'd wake up, maybe he wouldn't. It didn't really matter now that Alphonse was gone.

Edward slowly blinked. There was a shadow in front of him. It was a shadow, one Edward has never forgotten though he had tried to. He cringed away from it as he slowly levered himself up. But he kept his head down; refusing to look at the man he knew was his father. He hated his father for leaving, for abandoning their family. If he'd been there, he could have helped mom. Maybe even saved her! Then Edward and Alphonse wouldn't have been left all alone. And Edward wouldn't have destroyed his brother.

"Of course I left." Edward's eyes widened and he jerked his head up to see the golden hair and eyes so much like his own. His father's face was devoid of affection, cold and hard. "Why would I stay around something like you? You're a worthless piece of trash that dishonors me and your mother with your every breath."

The man's cutting words struck their mark. Edward struggled to stand, mouth twisting in fury and terror.

"You left us!" Edward cried, the words more broken and quiet than he intended. "And you never came back!"

"Nor will I," Hohenheim growled. "My wife and son are gone. And you are not worth anything to me."

Growling, Edward lunged. Hohenheim abruptly vanished and the blonde whirled around, trying to find the man. His balance was off however and he landed on his rear with a hard thud. Wincing, Edward glanced around. Everything was gray. It swirled like a mist around him, threatening to consume him and yet it didn't, teasing and taunting. Edward shivered, curling his legs up to his chest, unable to control his shaking. He hated Hohenheim. Hated him! The worthless bastard abandoned them, hurting Mom and forcing her to raise the brothers alone. Edward had done his best to help her shoulder the burden, but in the end it had not been enough. She died and Edward and Alphonse had been left alone.

"Damn it," Edward whispered, trying to stand. He couldn't stay here. Fear was clawing at his chest and it was getting harder to breathe. But where could he go?

"Looking for me?"

"Colonel?" Something in his chest warmed a little. He refused to acknowledge it as hope. Edward turned his head and saw Colonel Mustang standing several feet away, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his uniform. Despite the familiar pose, there was something off about the man. For one, he was covered in shadow and it was hard to make out his features. The soldier was less distinguishable than his old man and Edward hadn't seen him since he left eight years before. It didn't make sense.

"Colonel, what's going on?" Edward demanded, the relief giving way to dread. Something was wrong. He finally managed to get his legs steady enough so he could stand. But it felt like he was still flat on the ground. Wait, was he still dreaming? Edward pressed his flesh hand to his forehead. Now that he thought about it, it felt like his head was throbbing like a drum. He was awake now, right?

"Oh, nothing much. I've just come to a realization after seeing how your own family feels about you and your failures, that's all."

Ice. It trickled down Edward's neck and over his collarbone. No, this couldn't be happening. What was the colonel implying? And damn it, why couldn't he see his face clearly?

"What's that?" Edward demanded, trying to bluster with his usual attitude even as dread ate his insides.

"That you're of no use to me," the Colonel declared coldly. "And I should not have bothered."

Stunned, the blond gaped at the shadowed soldier. Fear rooted in his belly and was stretching up to squeeze his heart, his throat. No, this wasn't happening. Mustang couldn't be saying that. Not when he—not when Mustang had called him out on his sin and told him to move forward, to seek a way to fix things. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. The colonel may have been an egotistical, ambitious bastard, but Edward didn't think he'd up and leave.

"Goodbye Fullmetal."

That drew Edward from his stupor. "No Colonel, wait!"

Despite how much Edward disliked the man, how annoying he found him, he needed the colonel. It was thanks to the colonel he had any hope at fixing his mistakes. He couldn't leave Edward behind! Edward didn't want to be alone. He deserved it, but he couldn't bear it.

The colonel ignored him and walked into the shadows.

"Please," Edward cried, desperate, hand outstretched.

 **"** ** _Hello reviled one._** **"**

The voice was only vaguely familiar and it sent chills up Edward's spine. He spun frantically trying to find the source. "Whose there?"

The colonel had disappeared and only the mist remained. Panic clawed at his throat, rendering Edward mute. Frantically he looked around hoping to see somebody, anybody. There was nothing but gray emptiness. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

 **"** ** _You are one of the reviled, you poor soul. No one cares who you are. But I will send you on to be loved_** **."**

Edward's heart hammered in his chest, a loud frantic thumping that filled the quiet.

 **"** ** _Such a pitiful creature. So hated by this world. No one will notice, you see. They never do. How can they? Those that know love are cherished by those around them, not left forgotten in the dust_** **."**

Edward could sense it, whatever it was, circling him. His heart pounded as he frantically tried to locate the speaker. Nothing. Nothing but gray mist. He didn't know what was worse: the gray mist or the blinding white at the gate.

Something brushed against his shoulders and he yelped, twisting around only for the gray to give way to white. Blinking furiously, Edward shielded his face with his arm. When his eyes had adjusted, he looked around. And promptly wished he was back in the gray mist because a twisted, distorted creature was coming towards him, holding a small pointed object that resembled a needle.

Edward scrambled back, a terrified shriek escaping his throat.

"Get away from me!"

The creature stepped closer, making some sort of strange sound, the needle still brandished. Edward turned to run only to be tangled up in black, slithering arms. Arms he remembered from that horrible night when he was taken to the gate. He was trapped, helpless. Still, he tried to fight, tried to wiggle free, but their grip was too strong and he was too weak.

The eerie voice from earlier spoke again. **_"Don't be scared reviled one. Your suffering is at an end. It is time to show you the way."_**

Edward screamed. "Stop! Stop it! Leave me alone!"

They didn't let go no matter how Edward struggled. He couldn't let them do this. He couldn't! How could he fix all his mistakes? Edward howled, successfully managing to punch one of the creatures restraining him. It fell away with a screech and the other creature's grip tightened as it cried out in surprise. Edward sneered and twisted to punch another one. Unfortunately, the creature was ready and caught his wrist, pulling it easily to the side as if he was nothing. He cursed his lack of strength and tried to rally. But he was so tired and there were so many of them. He was trapped and this time there was no chance of getting free.

The creature he'd knocked away had gotten back up and was approaching again quickly, needle at the ready.

 ** _No one cares about you. No one will miss you._**

Edward's heart was racing as the realization hit full force. They were going to put him down like a rapid dog.

 ** _Pitiful creature. No one will miss you_**.

"Don't touch me!

They ignored him and as the creature loomed over him, needle ready to inject him and end his life. Edward thrashed uselessly. He couldn't breathe and he squeezed his eyes tight in anticipation even as he howled defiance.

"Fullmetal!"

It was like a boom of thunder in the chaos. Everything went still and Edward struggled to regain his breath as the creatures swiftly backed away. He knew that voice. Didn't he? Fullmetal…that was him. Only one person called him that regularly. Blearily, the blond tried to look around, tried to find the man who had stopped the monsters and made them step back in fear.

A familiar figure in blue kneeled down beside him. Edward couldn't see the man's face clearly, but it was definitely him. "Colonel," he whimpered. Relief and fresh fear raced through him. The colonel had left him behind, right? Had said he wasn't any use to him. But no, he hadn't, had he? Edward was so confused and his panic mounted. Was he dreaming? Was this real? Or was this just another part of his nightmare? The world spun and the pounding in his head increased to a frantic thrumming.

"Breathe Fullmetal." Two strong, solid hands gripped his trembling shoulders, anchoring him. "Take a breath now."

There was no room for argument. Still, he struggled to obey. It was as if his lungs were made of lead and his raw throat made it even harder. Finally, however, he managed to draw in a small breath.

"Good. Now slowly let it out."

This was easier to do, though it stung his throat. He coughed and everything ached with the jolt.

"Breathe in."

He whined in protest, but the colonel remained firm. "Breathe in again, Fullmetal."

So he did. And again, the colonel told him to release it slowly. Mustang made Edward do this over and over, until at last, Edward could clearly see the man's face and the room around him. He wasn't in a gray or white emptiness, but rather a white room. It seemed familiar, like he'd been there before. Blinking, Edward focused on Mustang. The colonel looked strangely out of sorts. For one, his military jacket was missing, leaving the man in just a pale blue collared shirt. His dark hair was in utter disarray and there were new lines around his eyes and mouth. Dark eyes were watching him closely. It was almost as if the man was concerned, which was odd for his normally aloof superior.

"Where?" Edward croaked, unable to finish.

"In the hospital," Mustang answered tersely. "You collapsed because of a high fever. You don't remember?"

Fever? He collapsed? Edward tried to think, he really did, but everything was foggy and seemed far away. Weakly, he shook his head and regretted it. Closing his eyes tight, he curled his fingers tighter into the fabric of the colonel's shirt sleeve. He licked his lips and winced. They were dry and cracked and rough.

"Here." A cool glass was pressed to his lips. "Drink slowly."

The water was blissfully cool, but the teenager couldn't drink much. His stomach churned slightly and he drew back. Immediately the glass was taken away.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," a feminine voice said from somewhere to the left. "He needs medicine. If you'll step back, please..."

An inkling of a suspicion trickled in Edward's mind as she spoke. If he was in the hospital that meant the speaker was probably a nurse. Nurses didn't usually say stuff like that unless they intended to use a certain pointy object on him. He twisted and saw he was right. She had a needle and was coming right for him.

"No, get away from me!" Edward flailed, trying to get up and run.

"Fullmetal." Strong hands easily held him down as the nurse came forward. Edward squirmed in the colonel's hold as the nurse approached.

"Damn it, I don't need it! I'm fine! I—"

He broke into a coughing fit. His automail ports flared in protest to the harsh movement and suddenly it was as if his body was on fire. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he knew was it hurt and he wanted it to stop. _Make it stop, make it stop!_ He couldn't breathe. Panic bloomed in his chest. He couldn't breathe!

"Listen to me, Fullmetal. Calm down. You're all right. Take a breath. Follow my lead." Mustang inhaled and slowly exhaled in Edward's ear. Edward tried to mimic him and was able to suck in some air. Then he let it out reluctantly. It was harder to inhale, but he managed to again. Spots filled his vision and he clenched his eyes shut. Everything hurt. It hurt so badly. He wanted it to stop.

Mustang's soft baritone cut through the haze. "Breathe Fullmetal. In and out."

In and out. In and out. He could do that. A palm rested on his chest and began to rub circles. "Relax, kid."

Edward forced his mind to focus on the feeling of the colonel's hand rubbing his chest. It was a strange sensation. Mustang's palm was firm, yet the motion was gentle and easy. His hand was also quite big, Edward realized. It covered almost Edward's entire chest with ease. He didn't like to think it, and he raged against it when anyone dared imply it, but as he gradually caught his breath and the pain dulled under Mustang's ministrations, Edward couldn't help but feel incredibly _small_.

"All right pipsqueak, are you going to behave now?"

Anger shot through the teen. It didn't matter Edward had just thought the same thing. He hated being called small and the colonel knew it. Opening his mouth to yell, he was interrupted by a quick pinprick in his arm.

"All done." The nurse smiled before standing up and turning away while Edward gaped. When had the nurse gotten so close? He had not even noticed her.

Mustang, the smug jerk, smirked. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Edward weakly glared up at the man, betrayed. "Bastard," he muttered. Sniffling, he finally went limp in the colonel's hold. He was too tired to be ashamed of being treated like a child. At his back, Mustang's chest rose and fell in slow steady breaths, allowing Edward to continue mimicking. The teen startled when Mustang's hand moved so his arm was wrapped around him. Then the man was moving to stand, taking Edward with him. The previous terror came back in a flash and Edward grabbed onto the man with sudden desperation. Hurt as he was that the man had tricked him, the blond did not want Mustang to leave.

"Easy, Fullmetal. Come on, up."

Mutely, Edward shook his head, curling his fingers harder into the fabric of the colonel's shirt sleeve. Strong hands gripped his middle and suddenly lifted him up onto the bed.

"Lay down," Mustang instructed. "You need to rest."

Again, Edward shook his head. If he did that, the dreams would come again. If he did that, Mustang would leave him behind. He couldn't bear either. At the same time, he was exhausted and it was a struggle to stay upright, much less hold onto the man. Mustang's hands closed around his, probably to pry them off his shirt. Edward moaned a protest, silently begging him to stop.

"Quit being stubborn and lay down, Fullmetal." Larger, calloused hands pried his up from the shirt. Edward inhaled sharply.

"Stop that. Breathe," Mustang commanded sternly. "You're fine."

Edward exhaled, focusing on Mustang's hands which had not yet let go. He let the colonel lay him down. It was a relief. The sheets were cool and welcoming and the ache in his body eased a little. But then Mustang started to let go and Edward gripped the man's wrists tightly. _Please don't let go. Please don't leave._

Ignoring his silent pleas, Mustang pulled away from Edward. Panic thrummed inside the blond but before it could grow Mustang growled. "Knock that off. Breathe!"

Edward obeyed, feeling something warm and wet slip down his face. He lay, trembling, as Mustang pulled the sheet up and over him, tucking it lightly around him. It was strange. Nobody had tucked him into bed in forever. His face grew wetter because surely this was just a dream still. Then Mustang rested a hand on his shoulder, solid and warm and very real. For a moment the colonel studied him. Edward was too tired to try to understand his expression, too desperate to not be left alone to care how pathetic he must look.

"Your brother is on his way."

Al? Edward blinked, trying to get his exhausted mind to follow. Al was coming? He didn't hate Edward? He should. Edward deserved every bit of hate and disgust from his little brother. Would he really come? Edward wanted to see him so badly, wanted to have his brother with him even though he knew it was utterly selfish.

"Hawkeye is bringing him," Mustang continued, as if he sensed Edward's fear. "They'll be here soon. Until then, get some sleep."

Sleep sounded wonderful. The fear remained however, gripping his heart with cords tighter than a rabbit trap. What if it was a lie? What if he closed his eyes and he was all alone?

 ** _Reviled one_**.

Edward shivered. No, he couldn't sleep.

"Sleep Ed," Mustang murmured. A hand lightly brushed his bangs back. "Alphonse will be here when you wake up."

"You—" Edward licked his dry, cracked lips. "You promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

The cords of fear loosened. Since Edward had known the colonel, the man had never once broken a promise. He didn't give his word lightly. If he promised that Alphonse was coming then he was. But when? Soon was such a vague word. When? When would Al be here so Edward could apologize? He didn't want to be alone while he waited.

Swallowing, the blond struggled to speak. Was he really going to ask this? Any hesitance he had faded when the man started to turn away.

"Stay," he whispered. "Please stay, Colonel."

Mustang turned back and looked down at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he sighed.

 _Please don't go. Please don't leave._

"I'll stay."

* * *

Roy did not realize it was possible to have gray hairs before thirty. As it stood, he was pretty sure Edward had just turned half of his hair gray. He studied his young charge quietly. The boy had finally drifted off into a restless sleep, his fingers still curled around his pant leg. As soon as the colonel sat, the boy had grabbed hold of him. It was disconcerting to say the least. But he'd let it go because the tension had melted from the boy, allowing him to sleep.

At the moment, Edward's expression wasn't exactly peaceful, but it was far better than the utter panic from earlier. He would never forget the sight of Edward struggling in the nurse's hold, golden eyes glazed with fever, face contorted with terror and denial as he screamed. Roy was fairly certain his heart had stopped. He'd reacted without thinking, following some base instinct to calm the younger alchemist by getting his attention and getting the boy to focus and breathe. Thankfully, the nurses had taken their cue and stepped back, letting the colonel take charge. In the end, Edward was successfully given a shot and put back to bed.

The last thing Roy expected was for the teen to beg for him to stay. Faced with Edward's fear and tears, he couldn't refuse. So he had agreed and sat down on the bed beside the boy. That was how Edward got hold of his pant leg.

The black haired man had not allowed himself to think too deeply about what had happened to his youngest subordinate before he joined the military. The important thing was moving forward. The past was gone and could not be changed. But it could leave scars. Oh yes, the past could leave terrible, ugly deep scars. And the fever was bringing everything to the forefront. He couldn't leave his young subordinate alone. The boy was completely vulnerable.

A nurse came into the room. It was the same woman who'd given Edward his shot. Roy thought her name was Clara. In her early thirties with light brown hair and green eyes, she carried herself with a calm confidence that Roy approved of. Even when Edward had been screaming she had not lost her composure.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye and Mr. Elric's brother are here. Shall I bring them in?"

Roy hid his relief. With the two of them here, the colonel could get back to work and quit thinking about things he didn't want to think about and actually do something.

"Yes. Please tell them to keep quiet since Fullmetal's asleep."

The instruction was primarily for the younger Elric brother, who no doubt was panicking. Clara didn't seem surprised, merely nodded and left. Alphonse and Lieutenant Hawkeye came into the room a moment later.

"Colonel Mustang, sir, I—oh Brother!"

"Quiet Alphonse," the colonel chided. "He hasn't been asleep long."

The armored boy made a small sound and Roy softened. "Edward's all right. It's just has a bad fever, ok?"

Alphonse nodded stepping up to his brother's bedside. The lieutenant did the same, her sherry eyes sweeping sharply over them both. She raised an eyebrow when she noted that Edward's hand was holding onto the fabric of his pants. Roy forced himself not to fidget. He knew what it looked like. While it was true he'd allowed it to comfort his youngest subordinate that did not mean he had to like so many people knowing.

Thankfully, Hawkeye didn't comment on it. "How is Edward doing, sir?"

In hushed tones Roy relayed what Dr. Cassidy had told him. Both were relieved and concerned to hear that there were no lasting injuries, but that the fever was persisting. When he mentioned Edward's nightmares, Alphonse immediately tensed.

"Oh no! Does that mean that they… _know_?"

"No," Roy answered firmly. "While concerning, the staff lacks context."

Except Dr. Cassidy who was aware that Edward was an alchemist and could put the pieces together. Roy trusted the doctor's discretion however. That was why he'd chosen the man to be Fullmetal's physician in East City in the first place. And if he proved unworthy of that trust there was no hole in Amestris that Roy wouldn't be able to find him.

"However, he can't stay here. Dr. Cassidy has informed me that he'll discharge Fullmetal this evening."

"I guess I can take him back to the dorms. Only I can't…" the boy trailed off, wringing his hands together. Hands that couldn't feel. Roy silently swore. He was doing a poor job of explaining this.

"Sir, surely—"

"No, Alphonse," he said, cutting Hawkeye off, meeting the boy's gaze. "I'll be returning this evening to sign the discharge papers and pick up you both. You'll be staying with me while Fullmetal recovers."

Silence met his declaration. He was also fairly certain Alphonse would be gaping at him if his body wasn't metal. Hawkeye wasn't gaping, but it was clear to Roy by the slight parting of her lips and widening of her eyes that she had not expected this either.

"Are-are you sure, Colonel?"

The uncertain, fragile question cut into Roy. He put a hand on the boy's metal arm. "I'm sure. Now, the lieutenant and I must return to the office. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay."

Roy didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Alphonse agreed. Patting the boy's gauntlet, he turned to pry his pant leg free from the older Elric's grip. Edward whined and shifted. Roy kept very still for a moment before he carefully pried up the boy's fingers and was able to slip free. His back cracked as he did so and he groaned. He'd been sitting for way too long again.

With a nod to Alphonse, Roy headed towards the door. Hawkeye immediately fell in step behind him. But before he went through the door, the colonel paused and looked back. The hulking armor stood at his brother's bedside, a tense and frightened aura radiating from him. "Al."

When the boy looked at him, Roy allowed his expression to soften. "Edward will be fine. It's just a fever. Okay?"

It wasn't just a fever. It was the nastiest fever in the history of fevers as far as Roy was concerned. Alphonse didn't need to know that. What the boy needed was some reassurance before the adults left him alone with his sleeping, fever-ridden brother.

"Yeah. Thanks Colonel."

"A nurse will be in to check on him periodically," he added. Roy knew he was starting to ramble yet couldn't help it. Now that he was at the door, there was this crazy urge to turn around and not leave the boys alone. They shouldn't be alone. Only they were far too often. He crushed the urge down.

Alphonse didn't answer this time. He merely nodded, already absorbed in watching over his brother. Roy bit the inside of his cheek and walked out the door, Hawkeye on his heels.

The two soldiers walked down the hall in silence. Hawkeye's eyes were burning into the back of his head, but he refused to stop. Now that he was away from Edward, he had to get his priorities in order, he had to focus. There was a lot to do before he came back to pick up the brothers. He fiercely shoved the growing ache in his chest aside. Now was not the time for sentiment. He had a job to do. There was no time for second guessing himself either.

Hawkeye broke the silence at last, drawing him from his thoughts by asking the one question he wished she hadn't. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Colonel?"

 _No. This is no doubt a horrible, no-good, very, very bad idea. But there is no other option._ Roy didn't say that however. Instead, he tried to sound confident even though there was no doubt it wouldn't fool Hawkeye.

"It will be fine, Lieutenant."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Cheers!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm finally back with another chapter. Sorry it's been so long.**

 **I want to thank each and everyone person who has reviewed:** _lexieconextreme_ _, DarkFlameFantasy, snowlikestardust, liliDreamer89, la-hija-de-Dios, Sskyblue, LeChick, kagomeinu18, kushina410, Guest MJ,_ **and two other guest reviewers**. **You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for your comments!** **Thank you also to all those who favorited and/or followed this fic. I hope ya'll enjoy this new chapter. :D**

 **Special thanks to _kagomeinu18_ for not only leaving a sweet review but also messaging encouragement. Thank you so much! **

**Oh and** _la-hija-de-Dios_ ** _._..you're exactly right that Dr. Cassidy and Dr. Quinn are Dr. Clint Cassidy from the tv show Doc and Dr. Michaala Quinn, Medicine Woman! I figured someone might guess Dr. Quinn, but I never thought anyone would recognize Dr. Clint Cassidy. So a virtual cookie for you! :D**

 **All right, on to the story now.**

 **Disclaimer...not mine, just borrowing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

It was like he was in a fog. First, he became aware he was lying on something soft. Then there was something making his nose itch. He twisted, trying to make the itch stop. That's when he noticed a strange sterile smell. Pain hit him a moment later, starting from his head and then flaring out to every inch of his body. That's when he put the pieces together. He was in the hospital. Again.

But why?

Edward groaned. Probably because of a fight. But what fight? He tried to bring the memory up but only got a headache for his trouble. Everything was a blur. Though he thought he remembered the colonel being there. And a promise of some sort? Well, he might as well wake up and open his eyes. Maybe Al could tell him what happened…

Wait, _Alphonse_!

Edward's eyes snapped open as he looked around frantically for his younger sibling. A gray blob appeared in his vision with two red dots that passed for eyes. Alphonse.

"Brother! You're awake." The armored boy cried, sounding relieved. "How are you feeling?"

The initial adrenaline that had surged through the older boy was quickly receding. Alphonse was here and safe. It didn't look like he'd suffered any damage whatsoever. That was good. As the adrenaline faded, Edward became aware once more of the terrible throbbing in his head and body.

"Owww. Ugh, what happened Al?"

"You don't remember?"

Edward tried to bring his hand to his head but stopped. There was something in Alphonse's words that pricked at his mind. Forcing his aching eyes to focus, he studied his younger brother. Alphonse stood over him, looking down at him. His expression naturally could not change, being that he was a soul attached to armor, but that didn't mean Edward wasn't able to know how his brother was feeling or guess what he was thinking. And right now his brother was worried.

He opened his mouth to reassure the younger boy, but a cool baritone spoke before he could.

"Good to see you're awake, Fullmetal."

Edward sluggishly turned his head towards the door beyond his brother to see the last person he wanted. "What do you want, Colonel?"

A black eyebrow arched at Edward's annoyed demand as the man strode into the room. That was when Edward noticed that underneath he long black coat wasn't the usual crisp blue uniform, but rather black pants and a collared white shirt. Had he ever seen the colonel out of uniform? Ed didn't think so. It was bizarre.

"Well, it seems you're coherent this time. That's something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" A wave of dizziness washed over him before the words even fully left his mouth. Edward groaned and pressed a hand to his head.

"You don't remember?" Dark eyes studied him hard, seeming to look right through him. It was a talent the colonel had that the young alchemist had quickly learned to hate. And right now, confused and miserable as he was, the last thing he needed was Colonel Matchstick around. Not when the colonel's question was a direct echo of Al's. What happened? He knew he was in the hospital, but he had no idea how he ended up there.

"I'm sure it will come back to me," Edward said, trying to brush it off. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain a strong front. It wasn't working, but Edward's pride wouldn't let him show weakness in front of the colonel. It was bad enough he had to admit it to Alphonse. He was the big brother! He couldn't afford to be weak like this.

Mustang frowned. The older alchemist looked like his usual annoyed self when Edward caused him trouble, but something in the man's black eyes made Edward uneasy. A fire burned there, and Edward had the sinking feeling that he probably didn't actually want to know what had happened. Mustang turned to Alphonse. "The nurse should be here any minute with the wheelchair. Is he ready?"

"No, he's not ready," Edward snapped, irritated that the older alchemist was talking as if he wasn't there.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so." Alphonse replied, hesitantly, also disregarding his brother.

"Hey! No, I'm not! Where are my clothes?"

Alphonse didn't turn to look at him. Looking at his brother's armored back, Edward's stomach bottomed out. Why was Al ignoring him?

"Good. I'll meet you at the entrance." With those words, Mustang turned and strode out.

"Hey Al! What's the big idea? I need my clothes." The last thing Edward wanted was to wander around in the thin hospital garb he wore.

Alphonse sighed. "Your clothes were ruined. They had to throw them away."

That was ominous. Edward bit the inside of his lip, studying his younger brother. The suit of armor seemed hunched and radiated with distress. Immediately, Edward gentled his tone. "I'm sorry, Al. But I'm okay now. Right?"

Two eyes the color or red fire stared down at him. Alphonse didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Edward could practically hear the younger boy's resounding ' _No_ '. Swallowing hard, Edward looked away first, unable to keep holding his brother's gaze. Silence seemed to choke the room and Edward twisted his fingers in the covers.

That's when a nurse came in with the wheelchair, breaking the tension. She smiled at the brothers in greeting. "Are you ready to go, Mr. Elric?"

"He is. Come on, Brother."

Between the nurse and Alphonse, Edward was easily moved from the bed to the wheelchair. Embarrassed and irritated, Edward crossed his arms and sulked. It wasn't because his headache had increased or he was feeling cold. No, he was just fine and wanted privacy to talk with his brother, that's all.

Alphonse began pushing the wheelchair and soon they were headed down the hall. Edward squirmed, uncomfortable. In the weeks following that day, Al had done the same thing while Edward had recovered from automail surgery. It wasn't supposed to happen again. Edward was the older brother, not Al. He was the one supposed to be taking care of _Al_.

 ** _Reviled one._**

A shudder shook him as the words suddenly echoed in his mind. Wha-where did that come from? Something happened, he knew that, and whatever it was had been enough to scare his younger brother and infuriate his commanding officer. But suddenly he didn't want to think about it. Not if it included that creepy voice. Instead, Edward tried to focus on the present. It took a lot more effort than it should have. Stupid aches and pain.

"Where're we going, Al?"

His younger brother didn't answer right away. He kept pushing the wheelchair, his metal feet clanking on the tile floor. Edward twisted, trying to look up at Alphonse and a wave of vertigo washed over him. Biting back a moan, Edward slumped back in the chair, miserable.

"Al?" This time he couldn't keep the pleading note from his voice. He couldn't bear his brother ignoring him like this.

"You're still sick brother. The colonel is taking us home."

Edward had the misfortunate of being in the clutches of doctors far too often, and hospitals particularly since he became a State Alchemist. There was no way they released him from their cold clutches when he was still sick. No, this was wrong.

Before the blonde could demand an explanation, a cold gust of air hit as they went out the hospital's main entrance. With a whine, Ed tried to curl his legs up to his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, the blonde tried to push aside the feeling and focus on getting answers. There wasn't time for this. He needed to know where Al and the colonel were taking him and why.

"Here, Al. Put this on him."

Something soft and warm wrapped around him, blocking the cold. He sighed with relief. That was better. For a moment he drifted, and in the distance he could hear Alphonse and Mustang talking. Edward couldn't remember feeling this tired in a long time. Still, he stubbornly tried to get his brain to think and pay attention to what was going on. Alphonse wouldn't take him out of the hospital for no reason. And the colonel wouldn't let him, right? Usually, Colonel Jerkface made him stay whenever he was admitted, refusing to let him leave until the doctors gave the okay. It was annoying. Taking him out so soon just didn't make any sense.

Apparently, the two were done talking because the colonel was opening the back door of his car when the teen re-focused. Edward was surprised to realize it was Mustang's car and not one of the military ones. Alphonse lifted Edward and settled him into the seat, tucking the blanket tight around him as the chill made him shrink under it. For the first time, Edward actually wished he'd been able to stay in the hospital. At least in the room he'd been warm!

Alphonse stepped back, and Edward looked up at him. He had to know.

"Why?"

The younger boy made a humming sound, as if he didn't know what to say. Dread was building in Ed's chest, making breathing more difficult. "Al please. Tell me why."

Mustang waved Alphonse around to the other side of the car and the younger Elric obeyed. Edward focused his golden eyes on the colonel, glaring and trying hard to hide the plea with demand. "You're talking in your sleep," the older alchemist explained shortly. Then he shut the door.

Edward blinked, confused. Why did that matter? The hospital was denying him treatment because he talked in his sleep? That was just stupid! Alphonse entered the other side and Edward shrunk away from the cold metal armor. His brother looked at him for a moment. Then, in a hesitant voice, "Are you okay, Brother?"

The colonel had climbed into the front seat and turned the car on. It was the sight of his dark hair and head in silhouette that triggered the memory. Mustang had walked away, declaring he was of no use to him. Mom. Edward sucked in a harsh breath. He'd been dreaming about Mom too. And Alphonse. About them leaving, about his sins, and how worthless he was.

"Brother?" Alphonse asked, sounding more concerned.

No. No, he wasn't okay. He doubted he'd ever be okay again. But he couldn't admit that to Al. Keeping the blanket up so his brother couldn't see his face, he mumbled, "I'm fine."

He understood now why they were taking him out of the hospital. Alphonse had told him before that he sometimes talked in his sleep. If the nightmares he'd been having were any indication, he was probably yelling on top of that. And he could very well reveal his sin to the world and _Alphonse_ would pay the price. Edward trembled, whether from cold or the fear he didn't know. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The car was silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the whistle of wind as they drove along. Edward stared dully out the window, barely registering anything they passed. Another memory niggled in his mind. He remembered strong, reassuring hands and the sound of a steady heartbeat in his ear as a deep voice ordered him to breathe. Must have still be dreaming. Yeah, he had to. There was no way he'd clung to Colonel Bastard like a desperate little child. There was no way that ambitious bastard had made him feel safe by simply staying with him, by being there. Nope, no way. He was Edward Elric! He didn't need anyone except his brother, Alphonse. He certainly didn't need stupid Colonel Mustang around to reassure him.

Refusing to think about it further, Edward focused his attention on glaring out the car window. Not that there was much to see. There were street lights and shadowed buildings. The occasional other car. Nothing really of interest.

Edward was barely awake when the car finally stopped. It felt like they'd been driving for hours. Distantly, he heard Mustang and Al talking again and the click and thump of doors opening and closing. He curled up further. He was so cold. And yet he felt like he couldn't breathe because the air was as thick as soup.

"Come on, Brother. Let's go inside."

He curled up tighter as a gust of wind swept through the open car door. No, he didn't want to move. He wanted the ache in his bones to go away, to feel warm and not cold. A large leather hand rested on his shoulder and he shrunk away, teeth chattering with cold. No, he didn't want to get out. He was at least somewhat warm here.

"Fullmetal."

Edward knew that stern tone. There was no getting out of this. With a groan, Edward started to unfold. He stopped as another cool autumn breeze blew by and curled back up under his blanket. Why did it have to be so cold?

There was a sigh. "Alphonse, the front door is open. Go ahead and take your things inside. I'll get him."

Wait, Al was leaving? Edward's head snapped up, but Alphonse had already moved away. The colonel stepped up to the door, peering in at him.

"You know the faster you get out of there, the sooner we can go inside where it's warm. Unless you want to spend the night shivering in my car?"

Edward glared at Mustang, not amused. It faltered as a tremor hit and he winced. No, he really didn't want to stay in the car. Finally, grudgingly, Edward uncurled his legs and slid towards the edge of the seat. That was when he noticed he only had a pair of socks on his feet. How was he supposed to walk in socks?

The answer came a moment later when strong arms plucked him up from the seat. Edward gave a surprised squawk as he was lifted and settled on the colonel's hip, the man's arm underneath his rump.

"What are you doing?" Edward demanded, flailing in the man's hold. He couldn't keep it up long. It was so cold and he just didn't have the strength.

"What does it look like?" Mustang had that stupid smirk on his face as he closed the car door with his shoulder. "I'm carrying your shrimpy hide inside."

"WHO ARE—" A cough cut into Edward's furious rant. And then he couldn't stop, he couldn't breathe.

"Easy there, Edward." Mustang sounded somewhat rueful, but Edward was too busy trying to catch his breath to care. Vaguely, he perceived a hand rubbed his back. He was glad for it. Then, as the cough slowed, he realized exactly what was going on. Colonel Mustang was carrying him and patting his back like he was nothing more than a child, not a teenage alchemy prodigy.

Mortified, Edward tried to order Mustang to stop. The words were swallowed by more coughing. When at last it stopped Edward found himself slumping in Mustang's hold, completely exhausted. A hand was still rubbing his back.

"Not…a baby," he ground out, voice cracked and gravelly. But his words were lost in the folds of Mustang's overcoat. He shivered, unconsciously pressing closer to the colonel's warmth. They were moving, Edward realized distantly, and then suddenly the cold evening air was replaced by pleasant heat. He waited, expecting Mustang to put him down. He didn't.

"Follow me," the colonel said.

 _I can't. You'd have to put me down first idiot_ , Edward thought sourly.

They were moving again and this time Edward could hear the clanking steps of his brother behind them. Funny, he didn't remember the hallway at the barracks being so short or the stairs being so close to the entrance. He tried to look around but gave up when his head gave a protesting throb. Groaning, he dropped his head onto Mustang's shoulder. This was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic.

Edward was so caught up in his misery he didn't realize they'd arrived. It wasn't until Mustang was shifting his weight and lowering Ed down that the teen became aware of his surroundings. The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight that streamed in from a window across the room.

The bed sheets were cool and decidedly not where Edward wanted to be. Why couldn't Colonel Flamebrain put him somewhere warm? Couldn't he tell how cold Edward was? At least Mustang had finally put him down. Edward really didn't want to think about the future teasing he'd receive after being carried like that. He batted away the man's hands as the older man tried to lay him down, determined not to give the colonel any more ammunition.

Mustang stepped back. "I'll let you get him settled, Al."

There was the thump of the colonel's boots slowly receding. His brother's large leather hands took over, helping Edward settle into the bed and snuggly under the covers. Already, Edward felt warmer. He was more than ready to go back to sleep, but knew he needed to talk to Alphonse. It was wrong for Alphonse to be so worried about him.

"Hey, Al?"

There was a pause before Alphonse answered. "What is it, Ed?"

"Something bad happened, didn't it?"

The younger boy didn't answer. Instead, he fussed with the blankets on the bed. Then at last: "Yeah."

"But everything's okay, now? I mean, I'm sick, but not hurt. That's good right?" Edward knew he was doing a poor job of hiding the plea in his words but couldn't help it. He couldn't remember what happened yet needed to be able to reassure his brother. It was the least he could do.

"Sure, Ed." Alphonse didn't sound relieved in the slightest.

"Al," Edward whispered, but didn't say anything else. What else was there to say?

"Fullmetal."

Growling, Edward glared at the interloper. Mustang had returned to the bedroom, a steaming cup in his hand. Why didn't Ed hear him come in?

"Sit up."

"Why?" Edward demanded, not in the mood for the colonel's orders. He had just laid down for crying out loud! As it was, this was the second time the brothers had been interrupted and Edward's patience was gone. He needed to clear the air with Al.

"Just do it, Ed." Alphonse's dull words cut. Swallowing, Edward meekly obeyed. It was a lot harder than it should have been. His muscles contracted, protesting the movement and he groaned.

"That's the fever. You'll feel better once it breaks."

Edward paused, mind finally connecting the dots. He knew he was sick, but he had not recognized the signs of fever. That was why he felt so cold and hurt so much. It was also why his dreams were so horrible. He was an idiot. Of course, it was a fever! Edward could only vaguely remember one other time he had a fever and he'd been much younger. Maybe that was why he felt like a train ran over him and then done it again for good measure. A cup was held under his nose, interrupting his thoughts.

"Drink."

Edward studied the cup suspiciously. Just what was the colonel trying to give him?

"It's tea with honey, Fullmetal. Now drink."

Scowling, the teen obeyed. He was relieved to find the liquid wasn't super hot, but rather just warm with the tang of the tea and sweetness of honey. When he finished, he handed the cup back to Mustang. The dark-haired man seemed satisfied, taking the cup and leaving the room again. Edward looked at Alphonse who hovered nearby anxiously. His earlier apathy seemed to have passed. It was both a relief and disconcerting. The blond was too tired to puzzle it out however.

"How are you feeling, Brother?"

"I'm—" a yawn interrupted him "—fine."

"You should get some sleep."

Edward hummed a reply, already half asleep as he sunk into the pillow.

Sometime later, Edward 's gold eyes snapped open as cool words slithered through his mind. **_I have now sent him on where he will no longer be hated._**

Disoriented, he glanced around. Where was he? The room was dark and what he could see wasn't familiar. This wasn't his dorm room. Worse, he was all alone. Alone, in a strange room, in the dark.

 ** _No one will notice, you see. They never do._**

Terror gripped him. "AL!"

The blond tried to scramble out of bed, desperate to find his younger sibling; to apologize and beg Al to stay. He landed on the floor with a thud, tangled up in the blankets. He fought against his prison, desperate to break free. The ground was wet beneath him, warm and sticky. Blood, he was lying in blood.

 ** _Surely if you were so well loved you, a child, would not have been here. Not alone. If you really loved this brother of yours, you'd be with him and not here._**

Edward screamed.

"Brother!"

"Fullmetal!"

Hearing his name, Edward anxiously looked around. Alphonse knelt next to him, his armored body seeming to vibrate with apprehension. "Ed?"

"Al, where—where were you?"

"I'm sorry, Ed! I was just talking on the phone with Winry. The colonel suggested I call to see if there was anything we could do about your automail because of your fever."

Fever? Oh, right the fever. The fever was what was causing his nightmares to be worse than usual. Edward had not thought that was even possible. Then he wasn't lying in a pool of blood?

"No," Mustang said firmly. "Your sweat soaked the sheets. There is no blood."

Edward blinked. He had not even realized he'd asked aloud. It was a relief however. He slumped back against the floor, all his energy gone. Was this what a wash rag felt like when it was wrung out?

"Oh. Hey Al, what'd Winry say?"

Why'd Alphonse call her? All she'd do would be worry and probably cry knowing her. His automail was fine. So what if it hurt? He was used to it. Nothing to be done about that. He blinked, realizing Alphonse had been talking, but he had not heard a word.

"Huh? Al?"

His younger brother shifted, metal clanking. "I'm here, Brother. Everything's okay."

Alphonse's leather hands pulled Edward up then lifted him up onto the bed. The bed was soft, welcoming after the hardness of the floor. He looked up at his brother and started as a shadow moved out of the corner of his vision.

 ** _Reviled one_**.

Edward couldn't suppress a shudder. Who had said that?

A cool hand on his forehead startled him. He looked up to find Mustang's mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Your fever's still high. Lay down."

Edward was too busy trying to process the fact that freaking Colonel Mustang had just put his hand on his forehead to check his temperature to comprehend his words. Instead, he gaped at the man, confusion mounting. What was this? No one had taken his temperature like that since Mom. He shied from the thought a moment later, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Apparently, the colonel was tired of waiting for Edward to listen because Mustang gripped his shoulders firmly and guided him down on the bed.

"Wha—"

"You need to rest, Fullmetal."

No, he didn't. He needed the cold to go away! And for Mustang to stop acting so…so _weird_. Sure, it was a nice weird, but weird all the same and the idiot needed to stop it! It was just an act anyway. Why was he even bothering? Oblivious to Edward's thoughts, Mustang produced a dry blanket from somewhere and put it over him. It was soft and instantly warmed the teen.

Ed squirmed, trying to get comfortable and not think about the dark-haired man watching him with a worried frown. It didn't mean anything. It didn't. None of it did.

 _Reviled. Unloved_.

His fingers curled into the sheets hard. No, he wasn't going to think about it. That stupid voice could go to hell and leave him alone. Alphonse was here with him. Even Colonel Bastard was here. He was not… _unwanted_. Shutting his eyes tight, Edward turned over so his back was to the room, determined not to dream anymore.

* * *

The clock was chiming midnight and Roy was exhausted. Not surprisingly, getting Fullmetal and his brother to his home had been the easy part. The difficult part was naturally the boy himself. Of course, the fever spiked again. Of course the nightmares were back with a vengeance. The kid could never catch a break.

Edward whimpered, face wrinkled in fear, his flesh hand grabbing at the man. "Don' go."

That was another thing. The kid had been saying things like that since the fever returned. Roy was certain he would never forget the desperation, the sheer terror on Edward's face as he fought the nurses back at the hospital. He also doubted he'd ever forget how the younger alchemist had clung to him and had been so afraid he would leave. Having it repeated, even without the intensity from earlier was unnerving. Just when had his presence become so important to the young alchemist? For that matter, when did Roy start liking that he was?

He shook his head and pushed the questions away. Now was not the time to be thinking about those things.

"I'm not going anywhere, Edward." Roy picked up a fresh rag and soaked it in the cool bowl of water. Gently, he brought it to the boy's sweat soaked face. The blond's nose scrunched, and he whined.

"Easy, kid," Roy muttered, not stopping his ministrations. Once he'd wiped Edward's face, he lifted the boy up and moved to the back of his neck and his shoulder where the automail was. The boy was too hot and despite all the sweat, his fever had yet to break. Roy finished with the cloth and put it back in the small bowl of cool water on the nightstand. Gently he lowered Edward back onto the bed. The child moaned again, hands once again curling into fists and gripping his shirt.

"It's all right."

Silently, he cursed. _Great job reassuring him,_ Roy thought bitterly. Honestly, the colonel was out of his depth. Making the decision to bring Edward and Alphonse to his home had been mostly impulse because of what the doctor said. But now that the brothers were here it had never been more obvious how clueless Roy was around children.

"Coln'l?" His feverish charge blinked bleary golden eyes up at him.

"I'm here."

"Al? Where's Al?"

"Your brother is getting some more tea." Roy quickly reassured him. "He'll be right back."

Alphonse wasn't just making more tea. He was, hopefully, looking through the older alchemist's book collection and finding something to read. There was no need to share that with Edward however. The younger Elric wasn't fairing much better than his older brother. While Al had waited with Edward in the hospital, the older boy's nightmares had continued. He had also woken several times and asked questions, only to forget and ask again the next time he woke. When Roy had asked Dr. Cassidy if that was normal, the man had explained the fever was the cause. It was necessary to closely monitor Edward, but he wouldn't be in any danger unless the fever didn't break within the next twenty-four hours. Roy had hardly been reassured by that. He certainly didn't share it with the upset twelve-year-old hovering at his brother's bedside.

After seeing Alphonse's distress, the colonel had resolved to keep the boy occupied. The older alchemist asked the younger boy to make more tea or bring a fresh basin of cool water. Suggested calling Edward's mechanic to ask if there was anything to be done to keep the automail from overheating too. Alphonse knew what he was doing. How could he not? The boy was just as smart as his brother. But Alphonse did as Roy asked and he could only hope it helped some.

Edward sniffed, oblivious to the colonel's thoughts, fingers curling tighter into the colonel's shirt. Roy was surprised his shirt wasn't ripped yet. With a sigh, he decided to get comfortable. There was no chance of getting out of the teen's grip, not unless he wanted to take off his shirt. He was too exhausted to muster the effort. And there was no need to worry about the embarrassment of being clung to like a security blanket. Roy doubted Edward was aware of what he was doing. Probably wouldn't even remember it.

Shifting the boy over, the colonel scooted so his back rested against the headboard. To his bemusement, Edward twisted and wriggled until he was practically in Roy's lap. Heat radiated from the boy like a furnace.

Absently, Roy let his hand rest on the blond's head, stroking the sweat-soaked strands. He could just see the bruise underneath and it kindled the flame of his anger. While small, it was a deep blue and purple that stood out starkly on Edward's pale skin. Damn, he wished he could bring the Diamond Malum back and kill the bastard slowly with his flames. The kid had been right next to a dead man when he and the team found him. Lying in his blood. Between that and the nightmares where Edward was mumbling something about being reviled, Roy did not think he had hated someone so much.

"Do—do you hate me?"

The question startled the older alchemist from his dark thoughts. He stared down at the blond head, grappling to wrap his tired brain around the unexpected inquiry. Where in the world had _that_ come from?

"Don't be ridiculous, Fullmetal." Roy snapped, anger still hot.

Roy felt Edward flinch, seeming to shrink even further into himself. His anger was swept away by guilt. Damn it, he couldn't let his irritation get the best of him. There would be a time a place to berate the boy, but it wasn't now. Whatever had prompted Edward's question it was clear he needed a honest answer. Roy awkwardly cleared his throat, desperately wishing Hughes was here to tell him how to handle this. Exactly what was he supposed to say?

"Edward," he began roughly, then stopped. Gathering his thoughts, Roy tried again, gentling his tone. "Edward, look at me."

When the boy finally turned and lifted his chin and eyes, Roy had to force himself to keep breathing. The fear and despair in the Edward's gold eyes ripped into his chest, making it difficult to find air, much less words. Swallowing hard, Roy forced his lungs to accept the air before he began speaking.

"I don't hate you. Do you drive me crazy and frustrate the hell out of me with your antics, your disrespect, and your recklessness? Absolutely." Edward cringed and Roy hurried on. "But I do _not_ hate you. I could never hate you. You're _my_ subordinate. Do you understand?"

For a moment, the boy's gold eyes were clear as they searched the colonel's expression for a possible lie. Roy met the boy's uncertain look steadily, making it as plain as he could that he meant it. He cared about his young subordinate, as he cared for the rest of his team. After all, he was responsible for them. But with Edward there was something else, something that stirred his protective instincts in a snap. It led to impulsive decisions like bringing the young alchemist to his home when he was sick with a fever and sitting with the kid when he was too afraid to be left alone. He couldn't explain it to himself, much less to Edward. But, hopefully, what he said would be enough.

At last, Edward nodded, slumping against the colonel again, head pillowed on Roy's stomach. To Roy's relief, some of the tension had left the young alchemist's shoulders. Maybe, finally, the boy would get some sleep.

Several minutes ticked by in calm silence. Roy was having a tough time keeping his eyes open. Edward was breathing calmly against him, the room was dark save for the light of the moon coming in through the window, and he was comfortable. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review?**

 **Cheers ya'll! Have a great day!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hi everyone! Soooo I know it's been a while, but here at last is the next chapter. A nice chapter full of fluff and some parental Roy/Al! Ho, ho ho! Merry Christmas! :D I hope ya'll enjoy this.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! You guys are amazing and I hope you all enjoy the chapter and have a great holiday/end of the year. Cheers!**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

"Colonel?"

"Colonel."

Who was calling him? Couldn't they see he was sleeping? He grumbled at the voice, hoping it would take the hint and be quiet. It didn't.

"Colonel wake up."

Wake up? Who wanted him to wake up? It wasn't Hawkeye. She woke him by yelling or knocking him out of his chair. The speaker sounded much younger, like a boy. But not Edward. Edward was too loud and obnoxious. That left only one possibility.

"Alphonse," Roy slurred. Why was Alphonse here? He shouldn't be here. Then everything came flooding back. The Diamond Malum. Edward, sick and about to be killed. The hospital. The fever.

Crap, he was supposed to be watching Edward. _Great job, Roy! Real responsible_. Roy shifted with a groan. "Ugh, what time is it?"

"Almost two," the younger Elric replied apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you sooner. But…"

Roy waved away Alphonse's apology and set about the business of straightening up. Since he'd spent the last hour and a half slumped against the headboard his back and neck ached.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep in the first place." His back and neck creaked, and Roy grunted. Ow! He was too old for this, never mind that he wasn't even thirty yet. Something hindered his movement and Roy looked down.

Edward Elric—youngest State Alchemist in history—was snuggled against his side with his head pillowed on Roy's stomach and his arm thrown over and holding the man like he was a giant stuffed teddy bear.

For a moment all Roy could do was stare, bewildered.

"Brother's seems to have been sleeping well."

Was there a hint of mischievousness in Al's voice? Roy thought there was. He supposed it was a relief to see Edward resting peacefully after the nightmares. That didn't mean he appreciated it.

"Well good," grumbled the man, as he tried to figure out how to get out from Edward's grip. Wasn't that how he ended up in this position in the first place? He sighed. It wasn't even the first time tonight. He was never, ever letting anyone find out about this. Especially Hughes. He'd never hear the end of it.

Roy shifted to move the boy away and froze. He put his hand on the young alchemist's forehead to be sure. Then he swore.

"Colonel, what's wrong?" Alphonse's armored form straightened in alarm.

"His fever's up."

Damn it! No time to call the doctor. How long had the kid's temperature been up? Roy had been dreaming he was in the desert, sweating from the heat and hoping against hope it wouldn't turn into a nightmare of fire, blood, and screams. How long had it lasted? He swore again, gathering the boy up in his arms. _Roy, you idiot! This is all your fault. You were supposed to be watching him!_

"Al, go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. We have to get his temperature down." Or were they supposed to let Edward sweat it out? No, no it was too high. Dangerously high. Like before. Alphonse wasn't moving, staring at his brother, terror pouring off the child in waves. Roy barked, "Now!"

The suit of armor jerked back and then scrambled to obey, racing out of the room. Roy staggered to his feet, clutching Edward to his chest and followed Al down the hall. By the time he reached the door, the water was running. Alphonse quickly backed out—there was no room for the suit of armor in Roy's small townhouse bathroom—and he darted in. Without taking the time to take off Edward's shirt, Roy lowered the boy into the cold spray, taking care to keep his face away from the torrent.

Edward jerked awake the moment the spray hit, his gold eyes wide with shock. Immediately, he began to protest and struggle. "No! No, please! I—I it's cold. It's cold!"

"Easy, Edward," Roy commanded, trying to keep his words soothing. "You're not cold, your fever is up. The water will help."

If he hoped the logic would help calm the boy, he was quickly proven wrong as Edward struggled harder, pleas intensifying. At this rate, the boy was going to hurt himself. With no other option, Roy climbed into the tub and held the struggling boy tight in his arms so the spray continued to land on the child's shuddering back. Edward punched him weakly and made a strange sound that was probably a sob but was swallowed up in the water.

"I've got you, Ed."

Roy held the child tight, gracelessly stroking the blonde hair in hope of calming him. The boy continued to struggle, albeit weaker every time, until at last he was still in Roy's arms, head resting against his chest, panting. Once Roy was satisfied that the water had done what it needed to, he reached over and turned the nozzle. With help from Alphonse, the pair managed to get Edward dried and into clean clothes. Then Al took his brother back to the bedroom while Roy dried off and changed himself.

When Roy finally made it back to the guest room he found Edward wiggling in his brother's hold and not letting the younger boy settle him in bed. He watched for a moment, oddly relieved to see some of the boy's usual obstinance on display. It was only when Edward started whining and really twisting in his brother's hold that he stepped in.

"Fullmetal, settled down."

That got the blond's attention and he stilled. Red-rimmed gold eyes peered around the room. "Colonel?"

The man walked over to join Alphonse by the bed. He studied Edward with a critical eye. With his blonde hair loose and damp hanging around his shoulders, Edward appeared younger than ever. Something twisted in Roy's gut. Before he realized he was doing it, Roy put his hand on the blond's head. Edward blinked at the contact, his eyes taking a moment to focus.

Edward stared at him with something that Roy wouldn't quite dare call wonder, maybe even relief. Then the boy surged in Alphonse's grasp, slipping out like an eel. Roy gave a shout and barely had time to grab Edward before he crashed to the floor. He stumbled at the boy's sudden, unexpected weight. Edward was light, but the automail made him heavier than he was. Strange, he didn't notice earlier. The alchemist decided it wasn't worth dwelling on as he abruptly sank back in the rocking chair by the window with his charge. To his dismay, Edward snuggled closer, curling into a ball in his lap, fingers once again grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

"It's like you're a teddy bear."

Roy spluttered at the comparison, cheeks warming as he glared at the younger Elric. The armored boy snickered, and Roy's annoyance faded away. When was the last time he heard Alphonse laugh? He couldn't recall. It was a nice sound. With a huff, he settled back, resigning himself to the situation. Edward whined, pressing closer.

The younger Elric handed him a blanket and Roy quickly wrapped it around the boy. He hoped it would make Edward loosen his grip. It didn't. There was no hope for escape then. Roy sighed. Might as well finish it off then. He began to rock back and forth. Maybe if the blond fell into a deep enough sleep, he'd be able to get free of the kid's grip.

Unfortunately, he started to doze off as well. Alphonse calling woke him.

"Colonel?"

"Hmm? What is it, Al?"

"Well, um, I was wondering. Why do you have a rocking chair in your guest room?"

Roy gave a longsuffering sigh. "Hughes. His wife had a baby a couple months ago, I'm sure you know."

All East Command had to know considering how the idiot was constantly talking and shoving pictures in everyone's face. Roy in particular. When Al nodded, Roy went on. "Hughes and Gracia came to visit a few weeks back. The baby was colicky and had trouble sleeping. Hughes insisted he needed a rocking chair to get Elysia to sleep. I made him one. And it worked. The baby slept and so did we."

"You made one?"

"There weren't any stores open that late," Roy answered, defensive.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

Black eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What?"

"Well, it's just—I've only seen you use your alchemy once before when you dueled Brother and…"

It was Roy's turn to hum in understanding. "I'm sure Fullmetal thinks I don't know how to transmute anything else since I'm so…useless."

A large hand went up and rubbed the back of Al's helmet. A family trait it seemed because the colonel had seen the older Elric perform too from time to time when he was embarrassed or unsure. "Something like that, sir."

"Well," Roy sniffed—he may have said he was useless but that didn't mean he had to _like_ being described as such. "I can use other arrays. I had to master the basics before I learned flame alchemy, you know."

"Right. So, why don't you use it more? Wouldn't it help you? I mean, Ed and I use alchemy all the time."

The boy's innocence warmed him. How could he crush this child's love of alchemy despite what they had done, the price they paid? Their continued love of alchemy was one of the things Roy admired about the two boys.

"Not exactly at my current position in the military," Roy replied slowly. It was a vague enough answer. It wasn't quite true, but there was no way the colonel was going to attempt explaining how the war made him not want to use alchemy unless he had to. The younger Elric didn't need to know that, just like he didn't need to know such intimate details about the war. It could wait until he was older. For both boys.

Roy looked down at Edward. To his relief, Edward seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Absently, he brushed his fingers over the teen's forehead, moving the blonde hair out of his face. He blinked and brought his hand back, settling it on Edward's forehead to be certain.

"The fever broke," Roy whispered.

Alphonse's head jerked up, red eyes seeming to glow brighter. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm sure."

The suit of armor shuddered, and Al made a noise that might have been a sob or sigh of relief. Not that Roy blamed the twelve-year-old. The day had been hell. He almost couldn't believe it was over. Edward's fever had broken. The tension that had been coiled in his body for what seemed like days finally began to ease.

For several minutes there was silence as both man and boy absorbed the relief. Then:

"You must be a really great pillow, Colonel."

"What?! I am not!"

Roy's indignant rebuttal was met with a snicker from Alphonse. "I think Ed would disagree."

Okay, that did it. Bad enough this was the second time tonight he'd been allowing the young alchemist to sit on him, the last thing he needed was any ideas about him being soft like a pillow. He most certainly was not a pillow, thank you! Or a damn teddy bear for that matter. He was putting a stop to this here and now. He had an image to maintain and that did not include acting as his youngest and most troublesome subordinate's personal pillow.

Two minutes later Roy leaned back and groaned in defeat. Edward snuffled, burrowing close to the colonel's chest, hand still firmly fisted around the colonel's shirt. He gave the boy a narrow stare. How was the brat doing this? He was asleep for crying out loud, and Roy still couldn't get out of his grip.

"Ed probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway." That was something at least. It would be easier to pretend it never happened that way.

"Why's that?"

Roy jumped, not realizing he'd spoken aloud. He had to wrack his brain for a moment, exhaustion making it hard to think. "Fevers tend to have that effect. Our bodies are not meant to get so hot. In defense, the body focuses on fighting the fever and the mind slips into a distant state because all its energy is focused on fighting the illness."

"Oh. So, he won't remember anything?"

"He might remember some," Roy admitted, reluctant. Knowing his luck, it would be what he didn't want the teen to remember—this…this _cuddling_ incident being at the top of that list. "But I doubt it will be much. You saw how he was earlier."

Alphonse made a small noise of acknowledgment. Then, "Will he remember fighting, you know, _him_?"

 _Him_. The Diamond Malum. It took a great deal of effort for the colonel to keep his expression neutral, but he doubted he completely succeeded. Roy wanted answers and not just about the killer. He wanted to know exactly the little brat had been thinking taking off alone with no one the wiser to where he was or what he was doing. He pointedly ignored the little voice that reminded him that half the time he didn't know what the young alchemist was up to when he was off hunting down leads on the Philosopher's Stone. Sure, Roy had always ensured he got reports on Fullmetal and his brother and what they were up to, but obviously it was time to keep a much closer watch.

"I don't know. Hopefully he'll remember enough so I can close the case."

"Oh." Alphonse shifted his attention between Edward, Roy, and the floor. "What's going to happen when Ed gets better?"

"There will be consequences." The words fell like ice chips from Roy's mouth. "I told Edward when he became a State Alchemist, he would only go on missions I assigned or permitted for him, and any research trips had to have my approval. This should have _never_ happened."

And he was going to make sure it didn't ever again. There were men higher than him with the authority to give Fullmetal orders, but Roy had made sure that in every case they had to inform him as Edward's guardian. The only one who could truly go over Roy's head was the Fuhrer and he would do everything possible to ensure something like that never happened.

The younger Elric was quiet for a minute, head bowed. "I should have been with him."

"No, Alphonse." The colonel's stern voice drew the boy's attention. Roy made sure his expression was firm, unyielding. There was no way he was letting Alphonse shoulder blame for his brother's reckless idiocy. "Edward _chose_ to do this even though he knows better. You are not to blame. Maybe you could have protected Edward if you'd been there like you usually do. That would not change that Edward deliberately disobeyed me in a foolish attempt to distract me from the mess he made on the last mission."

As if sensing his superior's ire, Edward whimpered in his arms. Roy rubbed the boy's back. The blond quieted and returned to deep slumber. Roy refocused his attention on the younger Elric. "We are responsible for our own choices and the consequences, for good or ill. That includes your brother."

"Equivalent exchange," Alphonse murmured.

Roy frowned. As an alchemist and scientist, he understood and believed in equivalent exchange. But Roy had found that in life the principle wasn't necessarily true. Was there any equivalent for the lives lost in the Ishvalan War? He had killed thousands, but he was just one man. And what would the killing of a thousand people equal to those already dead accomplish? Only more heartbreak, grief, and anger that would feed the cycle of death. Justice was not dependent on equivalent exchange, not precisely. But how to explain that to a young boy?

"Not exactly," he said slowly. "It's more like cause and effect. Sometimes an action or decision can have lasting effects that no one could have anticipated. Usually it's something small, something mundane even, though not always. Like walking across the street and going right instead of left or left instead of right. Go one way and you could just keep on walking to your destination, go the other and maybe you witness a robbery. It's not equivalent exchange, it's choice."

It was hardly the best example, but it seemed the colonel got his point across because Alphonse didn't answer, seeming to be deep in thought. Roy let him think, instead focusing on standing up from the rocking chair without disturbing the sleeping troublemaker he held. With Edward on the mend and sleeping soundly, that meant he could get some sleep too. Successfully on his feet, Roy went to the bed and laid the boy down. With a little bit of work, he got his shirt free from the boy's hand. He stood up, his shirt containing a hole courtesy of the little brat on the bed. Edward fussed for a minute before settling as Roy tucked the blanket over him. He shook his head, exasperated.

"I think I understand, sir."

The somberness of the words drew Roy's attention. He met the younger Elric's soul-fire gaze. "Good."

Roy then yawned. A glance across the room at the clock confirmed it was nearly three in the morning. "Well, I'm going to bed. Come get me if you need anything."

"I will."

The man gave a small, tired smile and tapped his knuckles lightly against Al's metal shoulder. "Night Al."

"Good night, Colonel."

* * *

Edward woke to his head throbbing. It wasn't a bad headache, he'd certainly had worse. But it was persistent and annoying. It felt like when Winry's wrench was used to vent her displeasure for damaging her automail. Had he wrecked his automail? Gingerly, he tried to wiggle his toes and then his fingers. Nope, his automail was attached and seemed to be working fine. So just a good old traditional headache. Yippee.

Groaning, the young alchemist rolled over. The bed was nice. Soft and warm. Maybe he could just fall back asleep and then the headache would go away. He sighed. No, he knew that wouldn't work. Once he was awake, he could never go back to sleep.

A familiar clinking filled the air, steadily coming closer. Alphonse. He opened his eyes, automatically looking for his younger sibling.

"Oh, Ed you're awake!"

"Hey Al." Edward mumbled, blinking to orientate his vision.

"How are you feeling?" The younger Elric asked as he approached, worry clear.

That wouldn't do. Alphonse shouldn't be so worried about him. He needed to reassure his brother he was just fine. Step one in soothing his baby brother was not telling Al know how bad he really felt. Step two was verbally reassuring Alphonse, followed by step three which was somehow showing it.

"I'm all right." Gingerly, he sat up. It took a lot more effort than he expected. "Jus-Just a slight headache."

"You sound so much better. Do you think you could eat something? The colonel was making something for dinner, I think. That will probably help with the headache too."

"Huh?" Ed didn't know the Flamethrower could cook. If he did, he imagined it was all burnt. But that didn't matter. What was Mustang doing in their dorm and making dinner in the first place? "What's he doing here?"

Alphonse tilted his head, his words hesitant. "Well, we are in his house…"

"WHAT?"

Was it possible for a rock to replace one's stomach? The teen was pretty sure it wasn't, except that's what his stomach currently felt like. Edward was a hundred percent awake now. He looked around the room, really taking note of what was there. Unlike the standard dorm room, the furniture was fine carved oak, solid and obviously well taken care of. There was a nightstand and a dresser and, oddly enough, a rocker in the corner by the window opposite him. The walls were painted a pleasant forest green. Then there was the bed. It was a double and not a single, with sky blue sheets and blankets that were soft and cool. Nothing at all like the itchy ones from the dorms.

"Wha-what happened? Why are we doing here, Al?"

"You don't remember?"

Edward opened his mouth to shout that of course he didn't but no words came. _You don't remember?_ He'd heard that question before. Edward dropped his chin, frowning. What did he remember? He searched the foggy recesses of his mind. There was a sense of déjà vu about this conversation, like he'd had it with Al already.

But more importantly, he remembered a presence and a strong, comforting voice.

 _"Breathe Fullmetal." Two strong, solid hands gripped his trembling shoulders, anchoring him. "Take a breath now."_

Then there were nurses and a nasty needle and that same strong voice that commanded him to breathe soothed his fear.

 _A hand lightly brushed his bangs back. "Alphonse will be here when you wake up."_

 _"You—" Edward licked his dry, cracked lips. "You promise?"_

 _"Yes. I promise."_

Fear of being alone had still coiled around his chest. He begged for the presence to stay.

 _"I'll stay."_

Warmth. Security. Then, he thought he remembered being shuffled out and put into a car.

 _"You know the faster you get out of there, the sooner we can go inside where it's warm. Unless you want to spend the night shivering in my car?"_

Darkness and fear followed only to be chased away by warm arms holding him tight, and that voice once again speaking to him. Every time Edward thought he was alone, he was proved wrong by that voice.

"I remember something about a hospital," Ed said at last, "and riding in a car."

And Colonel Bastard carrying him; _caring_ for him. But that couldn't be real. Mustang saw him as nothing more than a useful pawn to help him move up the ranks. The colonel didn't _care_ about him. He didn't hold him or reassure him or do anything like checking Edward's temperature with his hand or rub his back to reassure him. He was Colonel Mustang for crying out loud! Mr-High-and-Mighty who always insulted Edward's height and sat behind his desk acting smug and all knowing. No chance! And he certainly didn't stay because Edward begged him too like a baby more than once. Nope, absolutely not. Mustang could not possibly be the one whose voice and presence reassured him he was safe. No, Edward refused to believe it. It must have just been Al or just his imagination.

So, Edward shrugged at his brother. "Everything else is kind of blurry."

Alphonse hummed. "The colonel thought as much. Your fever was really high."

"Huh? Fever?" Was that why everything was so hazy and distorted? He supposed it made sense.

"Yes, brother. You've had a fever."

Edward shifted, uncomfortable. The reproach in Al's words was unmistakable. "Oh. I didn't realize. Sorry, Al."

Alphonse held his stare for a moment longer before he sighed. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're feeling better, brother."

"So am I."

The brothers startled and turned toward the door. Standing at the door was none other than Colonel Mustang. Only, he looked nothing like the colonel Edward knew on a regular basis. That man always wore the blue uniform with and a smirk on his ugly face. The man in the door was in loose fitting black pants and a gray t-shirt. Not to mention his black hair was even messier than usual. And his expression? Edward didn't know what to make of it. It was almost as if he meant what he said when he agreed with Alphonse that he was glad the young alchemist was feeling better.

Mustang stepped into the room and Edward realized he was carrying a bowl that gave off a positively heavenly smell. Edward's stomach growled, and he had to swallow to keep from drooling.

"Is that stew?"

"Broth."

Edward scowled. He didn't want broth! It was so… _brothy_. Why did it smell so good? For that matter: "Why do you have broth?"

A black eyebrow arched as the man set the tray down on the nightstand. "You need to eat something, Fullmetal."

"But I don't want broth," Edward complained. "I'm starving! I want real food."

"You're being awfully demanding considering your situation." The words were dropped casually, with just a hint of irritation and something else that Edward couldn't identify, but it immediately put him on edge. "Eat the broth and if you can keep it down, we'll see about something else."

Before Edward could respond, the man plopped the bowl on the bedside table then turned around and strode out. The brothers stared at the empty doorway in bewilderment.

"Geez, what's with him?" Edward grumbled. He glanced at the bowl and wrinkled his nose.

"I don't know, but you better eat if you want anything else, Brother." Al handed him the bowl. Automatically, Edward took it even as he complained.

"Ah, come on! It's broth! And Colonel Bastard made it!"

"Eat, Ed."

With a pout, Edward picked up the spoon and took a sip. It didn't taste that bad. A little weird. He lifted another spoonful. Then another. As he ate, his mind whirred with confusion.

When Alphonse had asked him what he remembered it was easy to dismiss the images and feelings about Mustang from earlier. Seeing him just now, casually dressed in a t-shirt and dark pants, made the man seem less grand. Like a regular guy. Roy Mustang was not a regular guy. He was an egotistical, bossy, manipulative jerk. Edward decided he didn't like Mustang in casual clothes.

But he did have to admit, if only to himself, the broth was actually pretty good.

* * *

 **One more chapter to go. Thanks for reading!**


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